


The Reason I'm Still Holding On

by hopelessly_me



Series: Life is what you make it [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, Avenger Natasha, Baker Clint, Baker Jack, Brock Rumlow/ Jack Rollins - Freeform, Confused Clint, Deaf Clint, F/M, Fireman Brock, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Hurt Clint, Hurt Natasha, JARVIS is a good bro, Learning To Communicate, Mentions of past abuse, Mild Language, Occasional violence, Previous marriage, Protective Brock, Protective Natasha, Snarky Clint, Soft Natasha, Soulmates, Trickshot Barney, alien attack, distant Natasha, goofy Clint, goofy Natasha, mentions of child abuse, not a good first meeting, setting up boundaries, snarky Natasha, soft Clint, soul bond connections, steve is just trying to help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:59:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelessly_me/pseuds/hopelessly_me
Summary: Clint Barton moves to New York City to work in the bakery his high school friend started. He always knew he had a soulbond, and it felt stronger in New York. What he hadn’t expected was to find out his soulmate was the infamous Black Widow.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Life is what you make it [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101116
Comments: 25
Kudos: 89
Collections: Charity Hawktion 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kalika_999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/gifts).



> Thanks for everything, Kali. Thanks for the resources, and listening to my rambles (which probably happen too often but that's just who I am as a person). I had a blast writing this fic and making little (okay, big) changes to Brock and Jack and weaving them into this story. <3
> 
> I hope this story brings a smile to your face. =)

There was nothing quite like the feeling of the sun hitting your face on a late spring day, the air just warm enough that when the breeze hit a pleasant chill would run through your body. Laying underneath a tree, the leaves made the light dance around more and Clint took a deep, cleansing breath in before he let it go. He missed the spring- missed the smell and the taste in the air. He knew at some point in the near future he was going to have to pull himself up, but until his alarm went off he was content where he was.

Clint never pictured himself moving to a big city, especially somewhere quite so large like New York. He was raised in a small town, stayed there until he turned eighteen. He loved the wide open spaces, the smell of the crops growing in the summer, and how everything felt like a community. Sure, people were nosy and everyone seemed to know everything about it, but it had been home. But there was that constant buzzing in his head that told him that if he ever wanted to find her, he was going to have to move.

Soulmates were rare, that’s what everyone said. Only ten percent of the population had a soulmate, had that one person that completed them, and Clint knew without a shadow of a doubt that his was out there. He had all the warning signs since he was a child. He sometimes would get these thoughts in his head, thoughts in a language he didn’t know as a child but had later learned was Russian. And while he absolutely hated that sharp, stabbing pain, the dull aches that happened so often, he knew feeling his soulmates pain was all signs that somewhere they were out there. The only reason he knew it was a female was because one day when he was in high school his mind screamed at him  _ god damn it I hate this fucking bra _ . The thought alone had him laughing for a solid five minutes until he realized that she would likely hear some of  _ his _ thoughts, and then it wasn’t funny again.

It was even rarer that Clint had these reactions. Normally soulmates only felt each other after they met, after they formed that sealing bond. Somehow Clint’s bond was inking through despite never meeting his soulmate. He had been scared to tell anyone about it past his family- and even then he only told his brother. He wasn’t stupid enough, even at a young age, to bring any of this up to his father, not that he would have really listened anyway. And when he entered the group home he definitely didn’t speak about it- he didn’t want them to ship him somewhere to be a science project after all.

Now he was going to be living in New York and something about the city felt like home to him, and he knew she had to be close. The best part of moving to New York was his best friend from high school lived there and offered up the second bedroom to his apartment for the time being. Jack and Clint grew up together in Iowa, Jack two years older than Clint. They met when Clint was about twelve, when Clint had stayed late after school because hanging outside in the rain beat whatever was going to happen to him when he went back to his group home. Jack had found him under the high school bleachers and sat down, trying to figure out what was going on. And Clint, while he didn’t relay everything at first, told him just enough where it was believable.

Jack always had big dreams, always wanted to move to a larger city and start a bakery. Clint would spend hours at the Rollin’s home, kneading bread or decorating cupcakes, trying out new recipes and eating until he was sure he was going to explode. Jack didn’t have many friends back then- it was hard to be the gay kid in a small town, and Jack’s personality wasn’t that of someone that socialized easily. Clint loved him all the same- he loved Jack’s moods, his style, his lack of caring what people thought of him. And Jack just appreciated having someone around that he could share his interests with.

It was five years ago that Jack called Clint, saying he had found his soulmate. The first time Clint met Brock he was slightly terrified. Jack was brooding, he was big and muscular, but Clint knew him. Brock was a littler shorter than Jack and muscular, having a gaze that screamed ill intentions. Clint, however, bit his tongue and smiled through it all. This was Jack’s  _ soulmate _ after all, and Clint wanted and needed to find a way in. It was three days into their vacation, three days of Brock staring daggers in Clint’s direction, that Clint started laughing at a meme his friend sent him and he showed Brock. Somehow that was all it took to break the ice. Now Clint and Brock commonly sent gifs and youtube videos to each other.

Clint’s phone went off and he sat up and ran his hand through his hair, smiling down at the photo of his two best friends. “Hey,” Clint greeted.

“ _ I am so sorry- someone called in sick _ ,” Jack explained, sounding flustered and exhausted. “ _ Where are you? _ ”

“Battery Park,” Clint answered. “Brock alerted me that you weren’t going to be there on time. So I took the subway in town, found my way here, took a ferry to the Statue of Liberty, did some touristy things and now I’m laying around.”

“ _ Oh shit, okay _ ,” Jack said. “ _ Look, I’ll take the subway and meet you, alright? There should be a coffee shop nearby- Lucia’s. Go grab a coffee and a pasty and I’ll meet you. _ ”

“Yeah, alright,” Clint agreed. “See you soon, Jack,” he added before he hung up.

Clint pulled himself from the ground and looped his backpack over his shoulder. He typed the name in on his phone and walked to his destination, which wasn’t far away. Clint groaned when his hearing aids started dying on him, so he packed them away carefully, knowing Jack wouldn’t mind. It took about a half hour before a frazzled Jack joined him, plopping down at the table and looking at Clint. Clint waved and signed hello before he slid Jack’s drink closer to him.

_ I’m sorry _ Jack signed.  _ Day got away from me. How are you? _

It was slow and clumsy from years of not using it, but Clint didn’t care. The fact he still remembered a little bit of sign language was enough. Clint dug into his bag and grabbed a notebook, putting it down and grabbing a pen.  _ Not bad. Sorry my hearing aids died- need a recharge. It was fun torturing the barista- if you turn around you can even see her glaring at me _ . Jack grinned and ran his hands through his hair, which was a little longer than Clint remembered it ever being.

Jack took the notebook and started to write, Clint looking away and people watching. When he got the notebook back, it was almost like an essay.  _ You are a little shit, you know that? Always were.  _ Clint could almost read the smirk in those words.  _ Do you want to go back to the bakery, check it out, fill out forms? You really don’t have to work for me, Clint. If you find a job you like better, you are always free to accept it. Just because we are friends doesn’t mean you need to hold yourself back. Also- you own more than a backpack, right? _

Clint chuckled and he wrote back.  _ I don’t see how you are holding me back if I work WITH you. You say for you, and I am going to call you boss, and we both know you hate that. I brought my portfolio, and I know how to do web page designs and such. I can probably update your website, give it a cleaner look, add our photos to be on a slideshow, showcase the best. Try to drum up business. I have a lot of ideas but we’ll save those for when I can hear. So for the backpack- not really. I left it all behind. I wanted to get out of town as fast as I could- things went south with the breakup. It’s okay- I didn’t tell him where I was moving to. But uh- I need to do online shopping so can I crash on your couch? How’s Brock? _

Brock was the one who convinced Clint to leave his roommate. Clint saw the warning signs, saw the possessive behavior, registered the aggressive way he spoke, but Clint wanted to save up more money before moving. Brock sat him down and very firmly told him that he had seen the way situations like this ended, and it was never good. He was calm, even though he looked like he was ready to beat the shit out of someone. For Brock to explain it so calmly with as much firmness as he did, Clint couldn’t say no. The last words Brock said still rang in his ear at times.  _ If the guy doesn’t respect you enough not to come on to you while knowing you have a soulmate, then what do you think he’d be willing to do if he got drunk enough? Angry enough _ ? Clint wasn’t going to admit he knew the answer to that.

Jack nodded and got up after writing down “apartment”, clearly stating his intentions. Clint wasn’t going to argue- it was probably better to leave the business end of things for when they could actually talk about it. Between Jack’s sign language being shaking, Clint hating to read lips because  _ that _ skill got him in awkward situations more times than he was willing to admit to, and both of their hands cramping, Clint was happy that the bakery could wait until the morning.

Jack and Brock’s apartment was about what Clint expected. It had photos on the wall hung with care along with posters. It wasn’t messy, Clint knew Jack hated messes, and it was so perfectly them. The furniture was leather and Clint knew his first purchase besides a bedroom set was going to be a blanket for the living room. Clint  _ lived _ for blankets. Jack sat down and got his computer out as Clint went to charge his hearing aids.

Sitting down next to Jack, Clint was passed the computer, a furniture site already pulled up. Clint grinned and reached over, fist bumping Jack. It didn’t take long for Clint to pick something. All he really needed was a frame, box spring, mattress, nightstand and desk with a chair. He double checked with Jack that he had a closet in his room- he figured he could just hang everything and pile things on the floor for the time being. He then ordered more clothing and bit the bullet to have them delivered as quickly as he could. The whole time Jack was sitting nearby, not paying attention to Clint an ounce as he watched the television.

Clint caught his attention and asked for his website before he got a thumb drive out of his backpack. He hadn’t signed his contracts yet, but Clint didn’t care. This was something easy he could do for the time being. He gave Jack a large smile as he worked on the web page, trying to get it up and running with new pictures, new spacing. He updated the business hours and everything.

_ You decorated that _ Jack typed in his phone and showed it to Clint. Clint looked at him then at the computer at a unicorn cake he had made about two years ago and nodded.  _ I know what your job is going to be. Maybe we can start doing specialty birthday cakes. Test the waters. _

_ You are speaking my language _ Clint wrote back to him. It wasn’t that Clint couldn’t bake- he was a solid baker, especially when it came to desserts. However, Clint’s favorite thing to do was decorate. He had an eye for color, and an eye for designs and ideas. He enjoyed his previous job where he could work with clients and make children’s cakes for parties. The last one he made was certainly going on the website- it was an Avengers themed cake, which should be a hit in New York since Avengers Tower was located somewhere in the city. He showed it to Jack, who easily approved of the image

Before Brock could arrive home, Clint retrieved his hearing aids. The last thing he wanted to do was to make Brock uncomfortable. It wasn’t that Brock didn’t know Clint was deaf, because it was definitely a hard thing to miss. Unlike Jack, Brock felt bad that he didn’t know how to sign despite Clint assuring him it was okay. So Clint tried his best to make sure his ears were on and functional whenever he was around Brock. Friendship- it was a two way street.

“I was thinking maybe you should mention you are deaf on the website,” Jack casually casually at the kitchen table, going through his mail.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, New York does have a deaf population, and it would be a draw that they could come in and order and feel welcome to sign,” Jack commented. “I know that sounds like a gimmick, but I just thought-”

“It’s actually a good idea,” Clint said, thinking about it. “I've never been in a large city before, at least not long term. The few times I have gone somewhere and the person knew sign- it made me feel better. Valued. So yeah- we should add that once we figure out our schedules since I won’t be there every day.”

“Still going to teach archery, huh?” Jack asked.

Archery was Clint’s favorite passion. As much as he loved decorating cakes, he loved shooting his bow more. He had learned the skill when he was ten, and was given a scholarship to continue practicing. It was a sport that he could do that he didn’t need his hearing for. He could take his hearing aids out and just get into the zone, letting his muscles work on memory. It had been awhile since he shot last- he hadn’t owned a bow in the last two years, selling his old one for extra cash. Now though- now he found a range in New York that was looking for an instructor and Clint jumped.

“Yep. Anyway- if we both take three days a week, twelve hour days, then that gives us weekends,” Clint said. “When is the last time you actually had a weekend?”

“I… can’t remember,” Jack commented before he smiled. “That’ll make Brock happy. That is, of course, if you pass my test.”

Clint snorted. “Yeah, okay,” he teased, throwing his voice. “Okay, clothes-ordered. Furniture, ordered. Coffee maker and bow- ordered two days ago and should be here tomorrow.”

“You ordered those before a bedroom set?” Jack asked incredulously.

“What? Guy has to have his priorities,” Clint answered with a shrug. “Actually, I didn’t know where to order from so I figured I’d ask you.”

Jack sighed. “You’re such an idiot,” he commented with a level of fondness that Clint had missed. “Come on. We are meeting Brock up at this steak place a few miles away. Our treat.”

“Some things in life will never change, Jack,” Clint said, getting up. “My love for free food? One of those things.”

Catching up with Jack was everything Clint expected it to be. It was sharing memories, sharing the new things in their life. It was talking about Jack’s business, what he is hoping to accomplish with it, where he would like to see it go. Clint couldn’t help but wonder how large of a place they were going to need with everything they wanted to do.

Some things never change. Jack was still large, still a bit on the brooding side, but he grew into it. He wasn’t that awkward guy from high school anymore. He carried himself with more confidence, knowing he could own his being now more than he could in high school. The best part was, he was still shorter than Clint, and that’s all Clint really cared about.

“There he is,” Clint said cheerfully.

“Hey Clint,” Brock said, walking in. He looked the same too- a little on the stocky side and still having that look that meant business. He sat down next to Jack and leaned over, their shoulders touching and Clint knew that Brock likely had his hand on Jack’s knee or thigh under the table. Clint loved their relationship. He could feel the energy screaming  _ mine _ between them. 

_ Fuck they are cute _ Clint thought so strongly. They made everything appear natural, smooth, like they had been dating for decades instead of five years. Clint wanted that- he wanted it in the worst way since he knew he had someone. He just needed to be patient.

“So, how was the journey to the city?” Brock asked, Jack’s arm coming up and around his shoulders to keep Brock close to him. “Sorry I wasn’t able to come and rescue you. Long day of training.”

“It went well. And it was fine- I checked some touristy shit off my list,” Clint said, turning his phone out and showing off a picture of him with the Statue of Liberty behind him. “In Philly I saw the Liberty bell- uh- here,” Clint said. “And I didn’t do any stops in Chicago because I slept.”

“Of course you did,” Brock cooed, smirking through it and Clint flipped him off.

“Clint came with one backpack and nothing else because the breakup went well,” Jack commented. 

Clint knew he had done that on purpose. Sometimes Jack liked to get a rise out of Brock. It wasn’t hard to do, if Clint was being honest. But this was a rise that was the hardest to set off because it didn’t happen often. Brock squared his shoulders, his head lowered and he leaned forward, his forearms on the table. Clint watched that protectiveness flare up behind his eyes.

“Do I need to go to Minnesota and kill someone?” Brock asked in a tone that expressed just how serious he was.

“You know, that protective look should be reserved for soulmates and children only,” Clint said, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn’t expecting a low growl to follow. “Ah! Shit. Stop it!” Clint said, kicking Brock lightly under the table. “I’m fine. We just had a shouting match and I left.”

“You hidin’ any bruises?” Brock asked, that growl not leaving his voice.

“Nope,” Clint answered. It was a lie, but what the hell. Clint was an adult, and it wasn’t like he didn’t hit back. “I had enough money saved up for new stuff. It was easier than arranging a moving company anyway. That’s a lot of miles after all.”

Brock leaned back, satisfied enough although Clint could tell he didn’t believe half of what Clint said. “Alright, good. He doesn’t know you are in New York?”

“Nope!”

“Even better,” Brock said. “Oh, I forgot, tomorrow I have to be at the fire station early- will you wake me up and make sure I roll my ass out of bed?”

“Of course I will, my sexy fireman,” Jack said, leaning over. Clint jerked a hand out and prevented the kiss before it happened.

“I’m sitting right here,” Clint said sternly, just screwing with them.

“Pft,” Brock said, knocking his hand down so he could kiss Jack. “Just wait. You find your way and we are going to be begging your hopeless romantic ass to stop.”

Clint gasped dramatically, which made Jack chuckle and look away. “Excuse you, but I am not a hopeless romantic. I am a country boy who likes dirt and mud and shooting my bow and winning the hearts of everyone.”

“You do have that smirk that tends to get you in a lot of trouble,” Brock laughed. “Christ, and to think when Jack and I first got together I hated you. Now look at us- I still hate you.”

“Brock,” Jack scolded.

“Still semi-wetting myself every time I see ya too, buddy,” Clint shot back equally as playfully as Brock had.

“Clint,” Jack groaned.

Brock barked out a laugh. “Fuck, I am so happy you are in New York with us. This will be a good move for you. And you helpin’ Jack around that bakery is a great idea.”

“Hey, I can drink to that,” Clint said.

The night was easy. Everything with those two was easy. Clint never felt like the third wheel- they had been so comfortable with each other for so long they didn’t make anything awkward. Clint got to hear about the tales of working as a firefighter in New York, which included the occasional run in with the Avengers. Brock was going to set up a trial package for Clint to work out at the same gym as Brock and Jack went to, taking kickboxing classes because apparently they were fun. Clint was pretty sure the classes were going to be designed to make him die of exhaustion. They talked about sports, and movies, about concerts they had gone to.

Clint was blindsided when a sharp, shooting pain sliced through his abdomen, forcing him to gasp and bend over, holding his stomach. The world around him went oddly quiet as he focused in on the pain and how it just wouldn’t stop. Normally it was for a quick moment and it was done. A headache was the only lasting side effect on most days. This pain, however, continued and left Clint gasping for air that he couldn’t quite catch. He reached one hand out, bracing it against the table, something solid he could try to ground down on. It was excruciating, it was torturous and then the words hit him like a brick-  _ this is what dying must feel like _ . 

Clint wasn’t sure how long he stayed in that state. He was completely unaware of his surroundings. All he could do was try to breathe and push back the words from his mind, trying to pour everything into one thought.  _ You can’t die on me. Just hold on. Hold on for me.  _ He knew that if she was dying, those words alone wouldn’t be enough. But a gentle, soothing  _ okay _ washed through him and the pain started to ebb away.

Clint looked up through watering eyes, took a deep breath as he felt like he was with only himself again, and focused on Jack. He was the one who was holding the side of Clint’s face, trying to talk to him even though Clint couldn’t quite process the words again. Then he was aware of someone sitting next to him and he got a smell of Brock’s cologne, further grounding him back to the present, to that restaurant until finally everything was back to as normal as it could be.

“There we go- easy now,” Brock said soothingly. “That’s better. Calming breaths. Can you hear us now?” he asked.

Clint managed to nod and he leaned back away from Jack, away from his touch, from Brock’s touch. “Fuck,” he whispered, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling.

“Are you going to be okay?” Jack asked.

Clint knew what Jack meant. He meant to ask if  _ she _ was going to be okay- if his soulmate was still there. Clint still felt that sense of home so he nodded. He reached out, willing his hands to stop shaking and he grabbed a glass of water- he didn’t care whose it was, and he drank it until he hit the ice.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Brock said. “You look exhausted.”

“How long?” Clint asked, too nervous to look up.

“About ten minutes or so,” Brock answered. “Hey, you said you are okay. She’s okay. She’s going to be okay.”

Clint nodded and numbly climbed out from the booth, his legs wobbly under him. He had felt her before, felt this weak, but it was rare. Whatever happened, she was hurt, and she was hurt bad. Clint wanted to try to find out, wanted to cry, wanted to do a lot of things. Instead, Clint wrapped his arms around his two friends who helped get him home. He felt numb as they got him back into their apartment, got him settled on the cough with water and some pain relief for the headache that was now settling in. Jack was the one who took his hearing aids for him, making sure they got plugged in so they could charge overnight.

Clint waited until the lights were off, waited for Brock and Jack to be back in their bedroom before he grabbed his phone and pushed the blanket back and pulled his shirt up. He counted the three dark welts on his stomach. He carefully touched them, feeling how they were raised, jagged edges and feeling deep. He knew what that meant, even though he tried not to believe it.

Someday, when Clint did meet her, if he could meet her, he knew he was going to pull her close and gently touch every spot on her body where he had felt pain on himself. He would look at any scar she had and ask for the story behind it and he would try to kiss away the pain. Before all that- Clint Barton was going to look her in the eyes and ask why in the fuck she was constantly trying to die.

Clint still felt off the next day. His head felt fuzzy, but he no longer had a headache, and the welts on his stomach had settled down to scar shaped bruises. Jack didn’t expect Clint to put his hearing aids in yet, which was a blessing. After one day in the city, Clint realized he would rather not listen to all the noise, which only seemed to confuse him. They took the subway down to Jack’s shop. Clint only watched the stops as they went by, looking at the subway map on the wall and followed the path until Jack tapped the map and Clint knew they were almost there. Eight stops.

Jack’s shop wasn’t anything extravagant. It was modern and clean, zero fuss involved. There was an L-shaped display case and Clint turned his hearing aids on so he could soak in all the knowledge he could. Jack then took him to the back where they split up the work. They resterilized their workspace before they started with the breads and the muffins. A half hour before the store was set to open two employees walked in and introduced themselves and helped set up the display cases in the front. Clint left with them to view that process.

Everything was rather standard, matching with what Clint was used to. Start with the bread items, go to muffins, and then start with everything else. The cupcakes, cookies, and pastries. It wasn’t an extensive menu by any means- they didn’t have the space or the staff to offer a limitless menu.

Clint split up his day with Jack’s approval. He spent half of his day in the back, helping prepare all the food for the day. The other half of the day Clint spent learning the front system, how they rotated stock, took orders by the phone, and worked the checkout system. Clint got to meet some of the regulars between the workers and the elderly.

It was a hard schedule to work, but the days weren’t terrible. Clint figured he would have to wake up every morning at three to make it to the shop by four. The shop opened at six-thirty every day, which gave him plenty of working time. Every day the shop closed at four, and the employees had to clean up and were expected to be done by four-thirty every day. Everyone worked together, it was highly efficient. Clint found out the hardest part was Jack only had two employees that were trained and certified to bake, excluding himself.

So that day Clint came up with his schedule based around his time for his archery lessons. Jack sent out an email, asking if the other two bakers could figure out their days that way everyone who was full time staffing only had to work three days a week. Clint figured that way everyone felt like they still had a life and could pick up hours since Jack banked in for everyone to be allowed six hours of overtime a week if they wanted or needed it. 

By the time they left for the day, Clint was exhausted. They stopped at a cafe on the way home for a quick bite and some coffee. Clint watched people as they came and went.

“Clint?”

“What? Sorry,” Clint said, his face turning red. “I’m having issues concentrating.”

“Ears bothering you?” Jack guessed.

“Part of it,” Clint admitted. “So what did you say?”

“I said… thank you,” Jack repeated. Clint frowned. “I know I keep saying it but you coming to work in the shop? It’s a lifesaver. My crew was getting burned out, especially the other two bakers. Having another baker on hand that has experience? That helped run a different business? It gives us all a chance to breathe more.”

“I’m just happy I can help,” Clint said. “I think you should offer an incentive to the college students. If they agree to taking the baking certificate and pass you pay back their classes. That one lady who worked the front of the shop today- she was asking me questions when I was eating lunch. I think she really likes you business, she just doesn’t know how to approach it. And she’s about to graduate high school. Make it a condition that they sign a two year contract, that will more than make up for paying for the classes, and then you have another certified person in your kitchen.”

“I’ll definitely consider it,” Jack said slowly. “Did your first shop do that?”

“Nah- I had to pay for everything myself,” Clint said. “But I know it’s overwhelming, especially at that age. You don’t  _ have _ those funds yet. It’s probably the only thing stopping that young lady.” 

“How are you feeling?” Jack asked, changing the subject after a quiet moment.

“Honestly? Tired,” Clint answered. “My head still feels all fuzzy, and my stomach can’t decide if it wants to hurt or not. I checked, no change so she’s not getting stabbed more or whatever. I just… kinda wanna veg.”

“I can’t blame you,” Jack admitted. “There’s been a few times Brock has hurt himself bad enough for it to come through the soulmate link. The one time- it was bad. He was burning, and I could feel it.” Clint frowned. “He’s still got these little scars from the skin getting seared. Maybe not scars but… something. I don’t know the word for it. He hates it, so you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Lips are sealed,” Clint promised. “I think whoever she is- I think she has to be a stuntman or something. Or part of a gang. Or just trying to scare the shit out of me. Seriously, she’s going to lead me to drink or smoke or something.”

Jack gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure she isn’t in a gang. But if she is… how the hell do you deserve that? You’re a good guy. Your soulmate is bound to be the same. Anyway- it wouldn’t match you with someone you couldn’t handle, right?”

“Right,” Clint said, rubbing his arm. “Oh well- it’ll happen at some point, right? Meeting her?”

“And you are sure it’s a her?” Jack asked.

Clint snorted. “I  _ feel _ like it’s a her. If not… that’s fine too. I just… I want to meet them. I want to learn their story and figure out how I fit in it.”

“You’ll have it, just takes time,” Jack said. It was certainly easy to say when you already had a soulmate in your arms every day. “You’re too good of a person not to have that. I just think that-” Jack stopped talking and watched the door. 

Clint looked at him before he turned in his seat and he felt his jaw drop. He was living in New York, he knew that realistically this would happen, but he didn’t think it would happen in such a casual way. “Is that… Steve Rogers?” Clint asked.

“In the flesh,” Jack answered. Clint turned back and looked at Jack, trying to pick his jaw back up. “You get used to it. The kids love it. Most adults love it. He’s probably the nicest of ‘em. You could probably ask him for a picture.”

“I’m… not that level of a fangirl,” Clint said slowly. “I just- my first sighting. You know how you said I can’t tell Brock about the burn?” he asked. “No telling Brock about this.”

“Oh, yeah, no. This is a rite of passage,” Jack said with a smile. “This will make Brock’s day. You aren’t getting out of this.”

Clint snorted before he sighed. “By the way, I volunteer as tribute.” Jack raised an eyebrow. “I was told every other day our excess product gets taken to a homeless shelter. I volunteer to take it since I am working that every other day schedule. Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday. So I can take it down. And, uh- I am thinking about volunteering at the animal shelter so I might buy some things tomorrow after work to make dog treats to take those every Saturday.”

Jack smiled at him softly. “Did I mention how much I missed you?”

“I think you have,” Clint laughed. “Shut up. Don’t make that face at me.”

“Stop doing cute shit like making treats to take to animal shelters and I’ll consider it,” Jack commented. “Alright, let’s go home.”

Clint lasted a whole two months in New York before he started to feel homesick, and it wasn’t even for  _ home _ as much as it was for somewhere, anywhere, outside of the city. Two months and Clint realized how much he liked the slow paced country towns, the two lane roads and the smell of the fields. Two months and he missed the relative quiet, the cornstalks swaying and rattling in the window, and the feeling of the sun beating down on your face in the middle of a field. He missed feeling like he lived in an actual community. 

He tried to make New York that way for himself. He volunteered when he could, making his way to the homeless shelter three days a week and the animal shelter once a week. He taught archery, just like he had done since high school. He tried to stay connected to the community. But it was hard work when nearly every day Clint got honked at, or yelled at, by someone who thought he was an inconvenience even when it was his right away. The constant noise bothered him, the constant lights. Even with blackout windows he knew they were there. Clint never knew how much he would miss seeing the stars at night.

It was two weeks before his birthday and Clint found himself alone on a day off, which wasn’t too unusual. He wandered down towards one of the parks he hadn’t explored yet and halfway through his day, after he ate his lunch and was still nursing his fifth coffee, Clint found himself lying in the grass and watching the clouds as they passed by. He found a spot that had tall sedges nearby so he could hear them when the breeze kicked up and he could almost,  _ almost _ pretend he was somewhere until he would focus back in and hear the constant noise that was New York.

Clint felt his wrist vibrate and he pulled it up and turned it over and frowned at the alert icon. He knew once he came to New York he would have to sign up for the emergency alert system. There was always something going on- construction, Amber alerts, the occasional storm, and the occasional Avengers alert. So far he had missed all the aliens, all the supervillains, and Clint was thankful for that.

Today, however, was not his day. Before he could even reach for his phone something struck the ground next to Clint, causing him to roll to the side and push up on his hands and knees, looking at the spear. There was a weird sound near him, something he couldn’t place, and then his shirt was yanked, pulling him to his feet. The moment he got his feet under him, Clint reached back, grabbed whatever was holding him, and flung it over his shoulders, his shirt being pulled away with it.

Clint wasn’t exactly sure that category of alien this was. It was certainly humanoid, but it had a blue-grey tinge to it’s skin with dark hair. It pulled it’s spear up and with a grin threw it at Clint again. Clint gasped and moved to the side, his arm getting a scrape before the alien was on him again. Clint pulled it down, trying to keep it at bay as it reached for what Clint assumed was another weapon. For the first time in two months, Clint actually wanted to thank Brock for the stupid kickboxing lessons.

Thrown off, Clint scrambled for purchase before he grabbed the spear, switched hands, and threw it, watching it impale the alien. It stopped and stared at it’s stomach, something Clint was very much staring at as well before it looked back up with a menacing grin. It pulled the spear out with a shout, staring Clint down, who only managed to take a few stumbled steps backwards. With a war cry it charged at Clint and Clint stood frozen.

“Yoo-hoo, earth to civilian,” Clint heard just as something hit the alien back, causing a mini-explosion. Clint watched it before he looked up at a red and gold suit. “Now might be a great time to maybe run? Find shelter. Area is under quarantine.”

Clint didn’t have to be told twice. He took off in a sprint, picking up his backpack as he went. He didn’t particularly have a direction in mind, he didn’t know this side of the city well enough yet to know what he was doing, but he didn’t care. He figured the further away from the loud bangs the better.

A hot blast of air pushed Clint off to the side and he hugged a wall, trying to catch his breath as he looked around for the source. He ducked just in time, a singeing noise crackling overhead and Clint knew he smelt hair. He looked at a woman, at her smirk as she held onto a gun- well, laser gun. Clint stood back up and held a hand out. If it wasn’t aimed at him, Clint thought maybe a laser gun would have been awesome.

“Can we… maybe not?” Clint asked, his voice shaking.

His answer came at the pull of a trigger and Clint ducked into an alley. He walked backwards as the figure appeared, stalking him and enjoying it. A lot of things ran through Clint’s head. First how he was  _ not _ going to be a victim- he’d rather die fighting than just let anything happen. And then she came into his head- that soft voice that sometimes sounded so sad, so defeated, while other times it sounded like a hurricane. He wanted to see who was behind it. So he took a deep breath and he knew it crossed between their minds it was so strong.  _ I’m sorry if I don’t make it _ because it was as honest as he could be, and it’s what he thought his soulmate deserved.

Clint went for the laser, finding no other option viable. He couldn’t keep running, and he definitely wasn’t going to play dodge’em all afternoon. The female figure battled back, snarling and saying something in a language Clint hadn’t heard before. He didn’t care how many times he got body checked, how bad his arms ached- there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to let go of the arm that was holding the gun unless he managed to pry it away. 

His head smacked into the wall a few minutes into the scuffle, followed by an elbow to his head. Clint leaned there, exhausted for a minute before he looked at the woman. Before he arm could race something jolted her body until Clint actually noticed that she was being shocked by something. He took a few steps to the side before his legs gave out. He sat down and let his head drop, trying to focus on not throwing up or passing out. 

A hand touched his face at the same time he heard a resounding  _ mine _ in his head. He looked up at sharp green eyes and that mine felt like it settled in his chest, felt a rush of protectiveness and possessiveness. He caught the sight of red hair as it fell over her face as her free hand touched her ear and was talking to someone. Clint couldn’t focus on the words, all he could focus on was her. She was there, her hand on his face, a firm reminder to him to stay awake if only to soak in that touch.

“This is  _ not _ a good way to meet,” she informed him angrily. “What were you thinking?”

“Don’t die,” Clint muttered tiredly.

“Oh yeah, no, I understood  _ that _ ,” she spat.

“Widow, you good?” Clint heard and he turned his head to look at Captain America.

“No.” Clint felt that answer in his chest and he closed his eyes and swallowed. “I need to get this idiot somewhere because he is bleeding and about to pass out on me. Help me get him up.”

“Tony- I am going to need you to fly to our location- we’ve got a hurt civilian,” Captain America said but it was all starting to fade away.

“He goes to the Tower. He’s  _ my _ civilian,” he heard his soulmate say in a growl. He felt hands on his cheeks but he was too tired to do too much about it. “Pozhaluysta, ne umirai.” Clint didn’t know a lick of Russian but he heard the words clearly in his head.  _ Please don’t die. _


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up when you felt tired was one of the worst feelings in the world, but Clint couldn’t sleep. Something woke him, even though he wasn’t sure what that something was, and now he was staring up at a clean ceiling, perfectly white, and everything was quiet. Clint let his eyes drag down, take in the room before he frowns. Everything was digital, with holograms showing what he assumed were his vital signs. It wasn’t like any hospital Clint had ever seen before.

He sat up slowly and something in the room flashed red. Clint flinched and eased himself up on his elbows, ignoring the red flashing light. His hearing aids were nowhere in sight, his  _ clothes _ were nowhere in sight, and he definitely didn’t leave the house wearing the boxer briefs he was currently in because he didn’t own any white boxer briefs.  _ What the hell _ he thought to himself. Clint looked around frantically for his phone or something. If he was taken by aliens, he was pretty sure he wanted to at least send one last video message to someone, Jack and Brock the likely recipients, saying this was  _ not _ his fault.

There was another flash that drew Clint’s attention and he looked at the words on the screen.  _ Hello Mr Barton. My name is JARVIS and I will be assisting you until someone comes into the room. I do suggest that you lay back and relax- you are in a safe space. Mind your head, it has a nasty bump on it. _

Clint stared at the screen then looked around the room, seeing no one nearby. He looked back and frowned before he reached up and hissed.  _ Yes, I did say it was nasty _ popped up on the screen and Clint dropped his hand down.

_ Where are my hearing aids _ Clint signed, even though he was positive this wasn’t going to go well.

_ I am sorry, Mr Barton, but I do not know how to read sign language. Sir will be in your room in a minute with Agent Romanoff, and they have hearing aids for you. _

Clint read the note a few times through before he looked at his lap. Clint just wanted to go home. He wanted to go to Brock and Jack’s apartment, stress bake and decorate, and forget the last who knows how many hours. A small part of him didn’t even want to run into her again- his craving to see her was less than his desire to feel safe and comfortable, and it was a weird feeling to be stuck in.

The lights turned a little brighter and Clint looked towards the door. He could recognize Tony Stark anywhere- he was everywhere, so to speak. However, his eyes pulled towards the redhead behind him, the way she held herself stiffly, the blank gaze in her eyes. Clint didn’t know what to expect when he had finally met her, but he had never thought that he would see someone so cold, someone that didn’t seem to want to see him. He could still hear those words  _ Please don’t die  _ but he couldn’t match that tone to the face standing in front of him.

Tony came up first and held his hands out. They weren’t Clint’s hearing aids- Clint  _ knew _ his hearing aids. His were boring beige, just like everyone else’s. These were electric purple, a color he would have chosen if he could have but never would have been able to afford. Clint gave Tony a questioning look, only for Tony’s hand to come closer. Clint gently took the hearing aids and fitted them to his ears after he turned them on.

The rush of sound was never Clint’s favorite. The beeping louder than what Clint cared for, chatter. He gave himself a minute to let everything sink in and become background noise. “Where am I?” he asked cautiously.

“Avengers Tower,” Tony answered. “You hit your head rather hard and for some reason your heart rate plummeted. The tests should be back shortly, so relax while you are here. You like TV?” he asked in a rambling sort of way that put Clint’s heart at ease a little. “It’s summer- baseball season. You a Yankees fan?”

“No one should be a Yankees fan,” Clint mumbled, his eyes darting between Tony and the redhead. Romanoff- Widow-  _ fuck the Black Widow _ . The sudden realization hit Clint hard and he heard an increase of beeping. He must have thought it strong enough because he could have sworn he saw Romanoff flinch.

“Woah, hey- calm down- whats that about?” Tony asked. “You shouldn’t make your heart go from slow to fast that fast. Can’t be healthy.”

“Tony.” The voice, that tone, everything about it felt so familiar, so grounding, and Clint relaxed. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks- the way his mind buzzed around the word  _ mine _ , sounding so possessive that it almost made Clint whimper. “I need to speak with Mr. Barton alone.”

Tony looked like he wanted to protest, but he held a hand up. “Okay. Fine. Have fun. No getting him riled up until we know that it was a freak incident, alright?” he said to Romanoff before he headed out. “See you around, Clint.”

Clint wasn’t sure he liked Tony Stark knowing his name. He watched Tony leave before he looked at Natasha and felt that overwhelming sense of  _ mine  _ come back into play. Clint watched as she took a seat near him, just out of reach and a sense of dread filled him up. She must have felt it too, with how strongly Clint felt it, but her face was smooth, blank, cold. 

“Mr Barton, I believe we have a situation,” she said.

“What is your name?” Clint asked.

“Does it matter?”

Clint closed his eyes and he heard the beeping, Tony shout at Natasha to knock it off. And he bit back a sob before it could escape. Clint was okay with rejection- he learned a long time ago that life was going to knock him down more than once. But this rejection, even the thread between them feeling nothing but sadness, hit differently. It struck his core and he wanted nothing more than to feel numb from it.

“I guess not,” Clint whispered. 

“I understand what soulmates are and what it implies,” Romanoff said, her tone not wavering. “I am here to tell you that love is for children, and so are soulmates. I work a dangerous job and this is not practical for either of us. I am sorry for the physical pain you may feel from time to time, the slipped thoughts, but this is for your own good. Find someone else and live a happy life, Mr Barton, because that life isn’t with me.”

Clint felt the blow and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to reach out through the bond for some kind of reassurance but he wasn’t going to find it there. When he did barely strum it, he felt her push him away, the only sensation he felt was a numbness from her. It was maddening, heartbreaking, one of the worst things he had felt, and it was coming from someone it shouldn’t have come from. It left him feeling lost.

Clint felt his shoulders pull up. “We are done here then?” he asked.

“Is there more you would like to discuss?” He hated how clinical it all sounded. Maybe Brock was right- maybe Clint was a hopeless romantic at heart. But he never envisioned this to be how he met his soulmate. Clint shook his head. “Then we are done.”

“Good.” Clint looked at his arms and his chest. He pulled off the sensors, listening to them flatline and pulled out the IV as carefully as he could.

Her hand rested over his. “Don’t,” Romanoff said firmly.

Clint put all his strength into looking up and glaring, pushing her back with his thoughts and his words. “We are done here, you don’t get a say,” he said coolly.

“And you don’t get to make a terrible decision because-”

“Take your hand off me,” Clint requested, putting a growl behind his words. Romanoff’s eyes narrowed. “I’d never lay my hands on you, but so help me if you don’t remove your hand-”

“Romanoff- take a walk.” Clint glanced at the door, at the tall blond standing there, leaning casually against it. Clint looked back at Romanoff, who held his gaze. “Natasha.”

“Oh good, that’s your name,” Clint said, his voice dripping with venom as he said it. “Glad to know others get to know and yet-”

She was on her feet in an instant, turning and walking. Clint watched her leave before he finished pulling the IV out and tossing it to the side. He knew he needed to get his emotions in check, knew he needed to calm down. His head was pounding, his chest felt heavy- all he wanted to do was find a dark corner somewhere and cry. Instead, he heard heavy boots make their way closer to him and Clint looked up.

“Steve Rogers.”

“Captain America. Yeah, I know. Collected posters of you growing up,” Clint muttered, putting pressure over where the IV had been attached.

“You removed that with some practiced grace,” Steve commented.

“Do you have a point, sir, or am I free to go now?” Clint asked. “I think I have been through enough in the last day to warrant my reaction and my need to put some distance between this place and myself.”

Steve’s facial expression turned more sympathetic. “I know what Natasha said hurt, and there isn’t anything anyone could say to make you feel remotely better.”

“I have a feeling the next word out of your mouth is going to be but,” Clint said dryly.

“However-”

“Close enough,” Clint grumbled.

“She wasn’t expecting to ever actually meet you,” Steve said. “Give her time.”

Clint couldn’t hold back the wet laugh that escaped and he covered his face, pressing hard into his cheekbones. “Right.”

“I won’t stop you from leaving,” Steve said. “Tony might but you can tell him to fuck off. All of us do it from time to time.”

Clint looked up at Steve, blinking the tears away so he could focus. “You got any clothes I can wear?” he requested. “And do you know where my phone is?”

“Your phone got damaged,” Steve said, holding out a brand new Stark phone. 

Clint felt a wave of nausea just looking at it. “If I am getting new hearing aids and a new smartphone so I won’t tell the press that Natasha and I are soulmates, no one has to worry,” he admitted. “Not going to admit this disaster to anyone.”

“Again, I am-”

“Don’t,” Clint requested. “Don’t… say it. Just… clothes, please.”

Steve nodded and left the room. Clint turned the phone on and opened up the texts, sending one out to Brock and Jack, letting them he was okay, he was in Avengers Towers to be examined before he headed home. He asked Jack if he could have a few days off and that he would explain more when he got home.

Steve came back with a stack of clothes and set them down. “Tony’s personal driver will escort you home.”

“I’ll take the subway,” Clint said, getting up, not bothering to cover himself as he reached for the clothes.

“Clint, I think-”

“It doesn’t  _ matter  _ what you think,” Clint said heavily. “It doesn’t matter what any of you think. Thank you for saving my ass, thank you for making sure I was okay. I’m sure Mr. Stark creepily has my number now in case something comes back wrong on the tests.” Clint buttoned his pants and looked at Steve. Clint knew he was being a dick, was exploding his anger out on the wrong person, but he didn’t know how to stop. “Just… I want to be left alone, alright? Her dirty little secret? It’s safe enough with me. I’m not going to do anything to hurt her.” Clint pulled Steve’s shirt on and swallowed back his anger, only for it to be replaced with sorrow. “Thank you for the change of clothes. Should I mail them back?”

Steve shook his head. “You can keep them. Just don’t sell them on ebay.”

Clint let out a burst of air, a wet laugh. “Fuck, how is this my life?” he asked, pounding his feet into his shoes before he found his wallet and keys and walked.

Clint thought maybe with distance things would feel easier. He thought maybe walking would help calm him down. The moment he sat down on the subway bench he let out the sob he had been holding back for the last half hour or so and tucked into himself. For the first time since moving to the city, Clint was thankful that no one paid him any attention.

That was until he felt a small pat on his shoulder. Clint looked up at a little old lady who proceeded to sit next to him. Clint watched her for a moment before he brushed off his face. “Young man,” she said gently. “I do not know what happened to you, but if you need a grandmother hug, I will give you one.” Clint couldn’t help but to laugh and the older woman looked proud of herself. “That’s a boy. Do you know me?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” Clint answered honestly, shaking his head.

“Every day you smile and wave to me on your way to the homeless shelter,” she said. “I am the little old lady on the park bench.”

Now that she mentioned it Clint could place her. “Oh- you are the one who feeds the squirrels and that chipmunk,” he said, his voice cracking as he pulled himself together.

“Yes, I am,” she said. “Now, what is a young man like you doin’ crying so hard?” Clint swallowed and shook his head, looking away. “If I may be bold enough to offer you some advice?” Clint nodded and looked back. “Whoever did this to you- put you in this state? You march right up to them, square your shoulders and you say that you deserve and demand better than whatever they dealt you. You look them straight in the eyes and you tell them that whatever they did, whatever they said- that it was the biggest mistake they have ever made in their life and that they will regret it. And then you let it go. You walk away.”

“It’s not that easy,” Clint said.

“Then it is love,” the older woman said. “And if that is the case, young man, you say it with even more conviction than you would have to your boss. Because you deserve nothing more than the best out of whoever you are seeing. I can see it in your eyes.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “You are too good for someone to break you this hard.”

Clint wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, he nodded. “Thank you,” he settled for.

“Of course my dear,” she said. “This world is cruel enough- we must band together to afford each other what happiness we can. You take care now, you hear?”

Clint stood when she did and smiled. “Allow me to walk you home? The fresh air might do me some good.”

It took longer than Clint expected to get back to the apartment. He felt tired, his head was aching, but he felt some resolve that he hadn’t earlier. He opened the door and locked it behind him, Jack and Brock coming out from the kitchen as Clint kicked off his shoes.

“What happened to you?” Brock asked.

With the best smile he could muster, Clint turned around. “I got a taste of what New York is really like. Aliens and everything. And I have to say- not a fan of today,” Clint said. “Also met her.”

Brock looked the most shocked between his two friends. “And?”

“And I decided that if we’re meant to be soulmates then I’d rather it be as platonic as possible,” Clint answered.

“What happened?”

Clint heard the hint of anger behind Brock’s voice, saw Jack put his hand up, blocking Brock from moving forward. Clint, however, smiled. “I guess I realized I deserve better than what she has to offer me. And maybe when I’m feeling better and I don’t look like I got into a fight with a brick wall I’ll tell her as much.”

Clint threw himself back into work after two days of laying around at home, feeling miserable for himself. He made bread, made the muffins, interacted with customers, made dumb jokes about being intiated into New York’s elite club of those hurt during an alien attack. Every day he paid for a cupcake or a cookie, whatever they had left, and he stopped by to give it to the old lady from the subway. He spent more time in the shelters, spent as much time as he could giving back to his community.

A week had passed and Clint was counting down the days until his twenty-seventh birthday. He took a three day weekend that weekend and made plans for himself. He was going out of the city, rented himself a cabin and planned on spending his time outdoors. He wanted to fish, swim, kayak, lay in the sun. He wanted to ground himself in nature, hoping it would chase away the mess he was feeling.

Clint was alone in the bakery, everyone out to lunch when the front door chimed. Clint walked out of the back, dusting off his hands and putting a smile on his face. “Hey can I help-” he began to say before he stopped.

Steve looked at Clint with a smile. “Well, this might be awkward,” Steve said. “Hello, Clint.”

“Hello Steve,” Clint greeted, reminding himself to be professional. “How can I help you?”

“I was told to come here to play a cake order?” Steve said, holding a folded up piece of paper. “Got a reference that this place could make specialty cakes?”

Clint nodded and rounded the desk. “Yeah, it’s a new part of our business,” Clint answered. “Well, uh, Jack’s business. I just… we’re friends and I work with him.” He sighed. “Sorry, I sound frazzled. Here, please sit so we can talk about this cake.”

“Well, cakes,” Steve said. “On the Fourth of July the Avengers hold a charity event. We were hoping for some sort of display, all Americana themed.” Steve sat down and unfolded the paper. Clint nodded and took it from him and looked it over. Nothing seemed too over the top and extravagant, it was all things Clint knew he could easily do, given the time frame. “By the way, how are you?”

Clint looked up and forced a smile. “Living the American dream, although I have to admit… a charity event on your birthday sounds interesting” he said. “This looks very easily doable. Can I get a number so that my boss can contact whoever about the cost? I don’t really handle the pricing.”

“Of course,” Steve said, pulling out his wallet and holding out a business card. “Pepper Potts is her name. She handles a lot of the Avengers press and events. I’ll let her know to expect a call.”

“Perfect,” Clint said, standing up, watching as Steve did as well. Clint extended a hand, which Steve took. “Won’t let you down. And wow did that sound kinda lame.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Not the worst I’ve ever heard,” he commented. “You’re alright though? I know we got off on the wrong foot there.”

Clint snorted. “You didn’t actually do anything wrong. I was being a dick and displacing my emotional baggage on you. We’re… good? Fine? Yeah, we’re good.”

“Glad to hear it,” Steve said. “Look forward to the call, Clint.”

“Yeah, same,” Clint replied, watching him go. Clint made his way back into the back room before he gripped the table.  _ Oh holy shit I said I was good with Captain fuckin’ America. Oh shit. Oh fuck. He remembered me. Shit. _ Clint smiled despite himself and ducked his head.

Jack and the others came back not too long after that. Clint pulled Jack to the back. “Okay so… don’t squeal or summon demons or whatever it is that you do.”

“Summon demons?” Jack asked, whole-heartedly confused.

“Steve Rogers stopped by the shop and was told we could make cakes for an Avengers charity event being held on the fourth of July,” Clint said, holding out the paper and the business card. “I told him I didn’t know the pricing but you would call their PR lady with pricing. He said he was sent here on a recommendation.”

Jack looked stunned, slowly taking the note and the business card from Clint. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I am serious,” Clint said. “I just fangirled all up in this kitchen,” added with a laugh.

Jack looked at the note and then the business card. “Holy- do you think we can do this?” he asked. “Do you honestly think we can pull this off?”

“Give me one day. Let me look at the designs and see if I can do them,” Clint said. “I’ll work on it tonight when the shop closes.”

“I can stay-”

“You have a date night with Brock,” Clint said. “I’ll be fine. Anyway, I am about ninety percent confident that I can do this. I just want to be sure because our first big order has… a lot of attention if we do this.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. If we do this, what will you need from me?”

“Baking the cakes and chilling them the night before, that or we wake up extremely early to do it the same day” Clint said. “Help making the fondant, but I can do the designs from there. I just need help with preparing all the colors.”

“Okay- fair enough,” Jack said. “Text me- and if you can do this, we are going to the bar tonight as a mini-celebration. And don’t tell anyone.”

“I have no one to tell,” Clint said before they laughed and hugged.

Clint took his time when the shop closed that day, looking at the designs and creating something close to what they wanted. He tried to figure out the best molds for the sugars, the right colors to make them look like sparklers. It took him awhile, but Clint finally relaxed and wiped his head and sent a text.  _ See you at Mutz’s in twenty minutes _ . With the biggest grin on his face, Clint was out the door after making sure everything was locked before he headed to a bar close to the apartment. 

Sometimes things in life don’t exactly go as planned. Clint should have known that something bad was going to happen the moment something extremely good happened, but he wanted to hold onto that feeling instead of feeling anything miserable like he had been. So when he crossed the street, his walk indicator on, the last thing he expected was a car to swerve into him.

When it rains, it pours.

“I can still work the front, I can do some things back here,” Clint begged three days later as he stood in the back of the bakery. He was lucky- all he had to deal with was a broken arm, which was more than a mild inconvenience. “Look, I just have to do everything one handed. A little slower but I can still be helpful.”

“You are supposed to be resting,” Jack sang in a low hum, trying his best to ignore Clint’s pleas. “Go home, man. Sleep, take those pain meds they gave you that I know you have not taken. You have FMLA and short term through the company- so go home.”

“But Jack,” Clint whined. “I don’t want to go back home. I want to stay here. I want to be useful. You know what I will do at home? Go stir crazy. Internet shop.”

“Buy something awesome,” Jack encouraged, working around Clint. “Don’t make me call Brock to come drag you out of here. I will do it, and he will gladly do it.”

Clint groaned and grumbled, making discontent noises as he followed Jack around like he was a lost puppy. “I’m just going to go back and annoy Brock.”

“Good. Do that. Teach him patience,” Jack said. “And if nothing-”

“Uh- Clint? Jack and Clint both looked over at the recent grad- Clint found out that her name was Kate. He liked Kate, even if she was a pain in the ass with all her new kid slang. Clint hated having to look up slang on the internet- it was hard telling what he was going to find “Someone is here for you.”

“Someone what?” Clint asked in disbelief.

“Uh- so he’s in a tux,” Kate said. “And he said he was here to have a conversation with Mister Barton. So that  _ is _ you. Not sure I can explain it any better.” If Clint wasn’t so stunned, he might have snarked back at Kate like they always did, but his brain was laser focused.

Clint glanced at Jack before he frowned and walked out, Jack in hot pursuit. Clint paused when he reached the counter, looking at the man in the suit. “May I help you?” Clint asked.

“Mr Barton, I was sent here to ask if you’d please consider coming to Avengers Tower this afternoon,” the man said.

“And… who are you?” Clint asked warily.

“Harold Hogan,” the man replied. “I work for Anthony Stark.”

“Oh, that is so cool,” Kate commented.

“And I am being requested… why?” Clint asked.

Harold pressed his ear and asked the question. “Mr Stark said you know why.”

“Clint?” Jack asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, it’s just peachy,” Clint drawled. “You on the phone with him?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good, pass me the phone.” Harold gave him an odd look. “Look buddy, I’m not coming across this counter unless I speak directly to him. So I guess you have two options. You pass me your phone, or you walk. Doesn’t hurt my feelings either way.”

It took a moment before Harold walked forward and held his phone out to Clint. Clint took it suspicious before he put it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“ _ Thank you for giving Happy a hard time. No one does it enough _ ,” Tony said cheerfully. “ _ So! Steve and I wanted to send you an invitation to the Tower, come to hang out. Come to chat.” _

“Am I legally obligated?” Clint asked, which Jack gave an odd look about.

“ _ Of course not _ ,” Tony replied.

“Is she going to be there?” Clint wasn’t exactly sure which answer he wanted to hear. Part of him hoped this was her idea because no matter how hard he fought to be strong about it, the knowledge of her not wanting him was killing him. At the same time, he thought maybe if she wasn’t there everything could stay civilized.

“ _ Yes and no _ ,” Tony answered. “ _ She will be in the building. She won’t be on the same floor. Steve and I aren’t quite that stupid. Happy would disagree- Sam too. Yeah- hush up. I’m trying to convince him to come here and think we are at least somewhat smart and put together. _ ” Clint snorted at that and hung his head. “ _ Hear us out, alright? If you aren’t feeling it then that’s fine. Free to walk and we’ll try not to bother you again. _ ”

“Alright, fine,” Clint grumbled. “Happy and I are going to stop on the way in- I need coffee. Text him whatever you all want. Bye.” Clint hung up the phone and looked at Happy before he turned to Jack. “So… I am supposed to go to Avengers Towers and have a chat with Mr. Stark-”

“So cool.” Jack and Clint both looked over at Kate. “What?”

“Oh… my God, can you be any more lame?” Clint asked, teasing his younger coworker. “Want me to take a selfie with him? Ask for his autograph? Maybe throw panties at him?”

Kate’s face turned white before red. “Oh my god, gross. You said panties.”

“Why though?” Jack asked, redirecting the conversation.

Clint pointed up at his ears. “He made these. Guess he wants to make sure they are working properly. That’s all. Easy peasy. I’ll call you, alright?” Clint said before he walked around the counter. “Hey buddy. Hey man. So coffee.”

“Yes, they have that at the Towers,” Happy said with a not-so-happy tone before he grabbed the door.

“Yikes,” Clint taunted before he walked out.

The ride to the Tower was mostly quiet. Happy did oblige Clint with a stop by a coffee shop, going in with him to buy all the drinks that had been ordered, including Clint’s. For a moment Clint thought about protesting, but he was one arm down and Happy was  _ big _ . So Clint thanked him, took his coffee, and happily sipped it in the backseat.

Clint looked at the Tower when they arrived. He always thought it was too large in the photos, maybe too flashy and overbearing, but then again- Stark built it. The last time Clint was here he didn’t look back, he was too worked up to. Now, the height was imposing, terrifying in it’s own right. Happy opened the door for Clint and walked with him inside as if the place wasn’t intimidating.

“Okay JARVIS, take us to wherever Tony is,” Happy said, his voice not nearly as gruff as it had been.

“ _ Certainly, Happy _ .”

“Woah, what the fuck?” Clint asked, looking at the ceiling. “Dude.  _ Dude _ . He’s got, like, a computer in his elevator?”

“ _ Welcome back, Mr Barton. I am JARVIS, in case you forgot _ ,” the voice said, which made Clint flinch. “ _ I hope you are healing well from your latest run in with a car. _ ”

“I… don’t even want to know how you know I got hit by a car,” Clint said in sheer awe. “You are  _ everywhere _ ?” Clint asked. Happy snorted. “Dude. No. That’s the coolest- wait! Are there more of you?”

“ _ I am the only AI system that is running throughout the building _ ,” JARVIS replied. “ _ However, you will likely see more robotic forms during your visit.” _

“No way,” Clint said excitedly. “Oh shit, Kate is going to flip out. She thought Tony was cool. There are  _ robots _ .”

The door opened up and Clint followed Happy out. “Here’s the kid. He’s chatty and excited about robots,” Happy said, dropping off the drink order.

The room was large with oversized couches and blankets. It felt warm and welcoming unlike more modern-styled rooms. The television was possibly the largest Clint had ever seen in person. And there was a robot, a little roomba going around, but it had arms attached that picked up the trash. Clint held back his excitement.

“Thank you, Happy.” Tony walked out from a back hallway room, Steve in tow. “We’ll take it from here with the… kid.”

“Kid?” Clint asked as Happy walked back to the elevator. “Hey! I’m definitely not a kid!” Happy had the audacity to wink and Clint stared at the elevator, his jaw hanging up and his eyebrows pulled down. “I can’t decide if I like him yet or not.”

“Nice cast, they let you pick the color?” Tony asked teasingly, grabbing his drink and passing one off to Steve.

Clint turned around and looked at the two men, the two  _ Avengers _ , and Clint found himself having a very hard time focusing. “Uh- it’s purple so… yeah?” he answered. “Yes, it’s a kid’s color. No, I don’t care.”

Steve chuckled and walked over, patting Clint’s shoulder before he squeezed by. “Thanks for coming, Clint. Clint is okay, right? None of us asked.”

“Yeah, Clint is perfect,” he replied, moving to sit when Tony and Steve did. “What… is this all about? And please- I know Jack called and said we’d still take the job. Please don’t pull it.”

Tony looked confused. “Why would we pull it?”

“Uh- cause I’m going to have a hell of a time decorating,” Clint said, holding his casted arm up. 

“That… wasn’t even a consideration,” Steve said slowly. “No, this is solely about you and Natasha.” Clint felt his good mood diminish instantly at the mention of her name. “We wanted to keep you two apart for a moment while we talked to you first about this.”

Tony nudged him and Steve seemed to concede, leaning back. “We know she feels like she needs to shut you out, keep you at a distance. But the moment you both saw each other, the soulbond was formed, solidified. Which means there’s no keeping you two from each other. You feed off each other's emotions and everything. And without you two being together the bond, well-”

“Yeah, I know. It starves,” Clint said sharply. “Likes to be fed happy, lovey memories, emotions, and without them it puts us both in a foul as fuck mood.”

“That’s… correct,” Tony said before he started to grin. “Oh, I think you are going to fit in just fine.”

“Except she wants nothing to do with me,” Clint stressed, feeling a bit of anxiety creeping out.

“That’s not true and you know it,” Steve said. “She doesn’t know what to do with you, she’s afraid to let you close, but she doesn’t not want you.”

“Oh, those were definitely not her words,” Clint said with a laugh. “In fact, she told me to find someone else to make me happy.”

“And how is that working out for you?” Steve asked point blank. Clint’s faked confidence dropped in an instant. “What Tony and I proposed to Natasha, and what we are proposing to you now is that you… reconsider.” Clint frowned more and twisted his fingers together, ignoring the slight pain that shot down his wrist. “At least talk to each other. Try to find a way to make the bond a little strong, or at least less broken. At least form a friendship, something healthy the bond can latch onto.”

“You just want that so she can stay a sane, valued member of your team,” Clint said blandly. “This has nothing to do with me or my health or wellbeing.”

“Believe it or not, that isn’t true,” Tony said. “We’re not exactly in the business of making people unhappy. Or at least not the decent people. That’s why I said on the phone- if you decide to walk, you walk. No one is going to force you into this.”

Clint nodded and mulled it over. Tony and Steve didn’t push, didn’t talk to fill the silence. Instead they allowed him to think, even though Clint couldn’t think of what he wanted to say. Then the words from almost two weeks ago struck him and he smiled. “Can I see her one time before I make any decisions? Talk to her?”

“Sure- but she wants to do it here and not on her floor,” Steve said.

“As long as I can do it privately, I don’t really care where I talk to her at,” Clint answered.

“We’ll drag her down here then,” Tony said almost too cheerfully.

Clint got up the moment they left the room and paced. He knew what he wanted to say, and he wanted to know how she was going to handle it. He was pretty sure thinking about it was making him more sick from nerves, but there was nothing he could do about it. He kept playing with his hands, kept shooting up little pains through the cast. Maybe he should have considered taking his pain meds.

The elevator door opened and he looked up at Natasha and reminded himself to be strong. Natasha walked over, that blank mask still on her face. “I heard you wanted to talk to me before you decide if you want to help or not.” And there, just beneath the surface, Clint could hear the doubt, the nerves.

“I did,” Clint agreed, feeling that strength build back up in him. He squared his shoulders and looked at her, making sure he had enough steel in his voice. “I deserve better,” he said. “Not better than you because clearly there won’t be anyone better for me than you. But I deserve better than how you blew me off. I deserve better than cold words and blank stares, or whatever masks you are putting up. And if you can’t give me even an ounce of the respect I deserve, then I am not going to bother with this bond. I’m willing to let it rot because I have lived with people who have brought me down before, and I am  _ not _ willing to do it again. So you need to decide what you want, because once I am gone, you won’t have me back and you’ll be missing out on the best damn thing you ever could have had.”

Clint took a few deep breaths at the end and he felt a rush of relief spread over him. Natasha watched him, studied his movements, but Clint wasn’t going to back down. She gave a single nod. “I know you have been around people who have mistreated you before- kind of hard to miss. However, you do realize that if anyone finds out about us, you are an automatic target,” she said and that confidence nearly shattered in Clint. “This love game is for children. I have seen it play out and I know what it can do. I had enemies before I even joined the Avengers. So are you sure you are willing to deal with anything that might come up? Because this isn’t going to be all fun and games. It could hurt much worse than a broken arm and whatever phantom pains I may give you.”

Clint felt himself falter a bit. He knew it was a risk, but hearing it spoken directly to him impacted him differently. Clint tried to build himself up before he nodded. “I can handle it. If you’re willing to figure out a way to fix your end of things, then I’m willing to figure out a way to deal with my end of things.”

Natasha nodded and she took a step closer. “I know I come across as cold- you aren’t the first one to tell me that. But I… blocked you out for a reason. Clearly I misjudged something.”

Clint couldn’t help the smirk that came across his face. “Like how much having a stressed bond sucks for your mental health?” he asked, knowing full well what kind of smartass he was being.

Natasha looked surprised for a moment before her lips turned up in the first small smile Clint had seen on her. She reached out to touch him and Clint took a step back. Natasha frowned and let her hand drop. “Yeah, no. You don’t get any benefits of holding me or touching me yet. You haven’t earned that.”

“Okay now you sound like an ass,” Natasha commented dryly.

“You think you’re slick, smarter than me because you work this job? Because you're a spy?” Clint asked. “I know that touching is the easiest way to ground us and the bond. And trust me, while I would rather take that avenue than the stupid thing I just did- if you don’t learn how to talk to me, we’re going to end up right back where we are. I can’t- I don’t want a purely physical relationship. I don’t want to be called here once or twice a week just to satisfy you. I want at least a friendship out of this.”

“Want or need?”

“Fuckin’ both,” Clint said, his tone flat. “I know some people are fine with touch-only. I’m not. I need connections, I need people in my life, people I can talk to.”

“You need the assurance that someone loves you,” Natasha said. Clint didn’t realize just how much the words stung until Natasha flinched from his reaction. “Okay, I phrased that correctly but it wasn’t supposed to come across that way,” she said carefully. “I’ve been inside your head for how long now?” she asked. “I know what you crave out of people. I know you are a good guy and you have this thing about being praised. It’s not something I know what to do with, but… I could learn.”

Clint nodded. “So… no hugging or touching for extended periods of time? Not unless one of us is actually hurt.” Natasha pointedly looked down at Clint’s arm. “Touching me ain’t going to heal this any faster. Rephrase- no touching and all that until we work on communication or one of us is in the hospital or overly emotional.”

“Fine,” Natasha agreed, although Clint could feel how anxious this situation made her. “Stop poking around in my head.”

“Stop looking like you want to vomit over the idea of having to talk to me,” Clint shot back with an easy grin. “Don’t need to poke around in your head to figure that one out- it’s  _ all _ over your face.”

Natasha crossed her arms. “So what do we do now? Sit down and talk about our feelings?”

“Oh wow, you worded that as bitchy as you could,” Clint replied with a laugh. “No. Nothing so drastic. It makes you uncomfortable. Just… tell me about your day I guess.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Tell you about my day.” Clint shrugged and walked, flopping down in a chair and grinning up at her. Natasha looked flabbergasted for a moment before she circled around. “I woke up and meditated, did stretches, hit the gym. Then Steve and Tony told me what a delight I have been since meeting you, and said I need to fix this. I said that you probably didn’t want to see me again, Steve won that bet about you actually wanting to talk to me, and here we are.”

“Woah, that’s fascinating. You’re a delight,” Clint said sarcastically.

“I’m becoming more aware of the fact that you are still very upset at me,” Natasha commented. “Not sure that’s the positive talking approach to make us friends.”

Clint snorted and looked outside. “I guess not,” he relented. “I woke up and went into work begging for something to do. Being a one handed baker isn’t exactly ideal. That is when Happy, who isn’t happy mind you, came to swoop me up.”

“You hate down time,” Natasha commented.

“Just as much as you do,” Clint said, looking back over at her.

“We have very different reasons,” Natasha said. “What do you know about me?”

“You have green eyes, red hair, a stunning personality, and you’re an Avenger,” Clint summarized. “I know that sometimes you have nightmares so intense they wake me up and I can’t figure out why my heart is beating out of my chest. I know that a lot of time you are remorseful, but I don’t know why. And I know at one point in your life a man you called Alexei was… prominent in your life.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t slept with people fully knowing about me,” Natasha said defensively.

“I didn’t mean it as a knock- I just… I was probably more aware of him than you were with anyone I had been with,” Clint said carefully. Natasha was building that wall back up, even though Clint wasn’t sure she had ever truly broken it down. “We don’t have to talk about that, or him. I’m not sure I want to know. I just know he made a huge impact in your life until suddenly he wasn’t there.”

Natasha nodded. “I know your father left a lasting impact on your life.”

Clint almost reached up to touch his ears but he fought to keep his arms at bay. “I used to be self-conscious about it. Still am sometimes. Just…”

“Don’t touch your ears,” Natasha murmured in a haunting tone that Clint couldn’t stop focusing on. “I remember hearing those words a lot. Don’t look at them. Don’t touch them. They hurt. They bug you. And the background noise-”

“You could hear the background noise?” Clint asked.

“Only once,” Natasha answered. She took a deep breath. “Can we… be done with this for today?” she asked abruptly. Clint felt the tinge of her nerves and he tried to steady them as much as he could with his own energy. “This is going to take awhile to get used to.”

“Hold on,” Clint said. He got up and walked over. “I’m going to… break my own rule. If you want to.” Natasha looked up at him, confused. “I shouldn’t be withholding something that could calm you down because I’m upset with you. I don’t want to hurt you like that. So I guess-”

Natasha was on her feet and awkwardly hugging Clint within three seconds. Clint stood for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her with that sense of mine washing over them both. His skin felt like it was buzzing, his body felt much looser and his mind calmer. He wanted to sink into that feeling but he held himself up as he felt Natasha pull for more, and he freely let her have it.

“I’m telling Jack and Brock,” Clint said softly. “I’ve lied to them about enough this last year.”

“If you can trust them, and I mean really trust them,” Natasha murmured. She took a step back and for the first time, Clint could see the sense of peace around her. “This is going to come across as… weird, but we will be keeping tabs on you.”

“I figured you already were,” Clint admitted.

Natasha got an odd little smirk on her face. “If it wasn’t for the fact that I loosely have enough knowledge on you to know what you have been doing all your life, I would be concerned that you are a double agent of some sort.”

“Just a baker,” Clint answered.

Natasha put on a serious face for a moment. “You’re more than that,” she said before she turned, that low vibration of mine pulsing through him. “You should stop by for your birthday in three days. Maybe bring your friends.”

“Is that a request or is someone going to show up at my front door?” Clint asked.

“You know the answer to that,” Natasha answered without looking back. “I will see you in a few days,” she said before the elevator closed.

Clint took a deep breath and smiled, looking down at the ground.  _ He’s a nerd _ he heard clearly in his head and he glared at the floor before he started to laugh.  _ I talked to Steve Roger. That’s so cool _ he heard her saying in a mocking tone. 

He knew she was doing it for his benefit and his benefit alone. He knew he had to get back at her, somehow. So he grinned and walked to the elevator and waited for it.  _ I’ve met someone even better than Steve Rogers now  _ he thought as strongly as he could and there was a pulse from their bond that nearly knocked Clint off his feet. He couldn’t quite decide what that feeling was- there was too much at once for Clint to understand. Then, gently, a small bit of happiness came through and Clint figured that maybe they could find a way to work this whole situation out.

Clint declined a ride home, stating he wanted to walk and ride the subway. Steve almost looked nervous by the idea but Tony just shrugged and said they would see him in a few days. Clint hadn’t really decided on how he was going to approach that yet. In fact, Clint couldn’t figure out how he was going to approach Brock and Jack about the new events just yet. Brock wasn’t going to be a fan of the situation, that much Clint knew. That protectiveness he developed for Clint was going to surge at the thought of how dangerous this could get. And Jack- Clint knew Jack was going to try to word it very politely that while he would never stand in the way of what Clint wanted or needed, he wasn’t a fan of the person either.

Clint found himself in the apartment alone and he did the only thing he could think to do. He stress baked. It was nothing too great, just Monster cookies because they weren’t designed to look pretty- they only needed to taste good. He also made some animal treats while he was at it because he was certain a dog wasn’t going to care what the treat looked like as long as it was edible; cats may be pickier, but at least Clint tried.

By the time Brock and Jack arrived home to go to dinner with Clint, Clint had everything bagged and labeled, ready to go in the morning. Brock sniffed the air and grinned, drawing out a long “monster cookie” as he headed to the kitchen for a treat. Jack laughed at his boyfriend’s antics and looked Clint over.

“So… you may want a cookie or three,” Clint said. “We gotta talk. All three of us.”

Brock walked out, a cookie in either hand and one precariously hanging in his mouth. “Uh oh,” he said carefully, automatically heading to the couch.

“Is this about the hearing aids?” Jack asked, taking a seat next to Brock. He snatched a cookie from Brock, who actually whined about it. “Clint, you don’t have to let someone bully you into being a lab rat or something.”

“It’s… not that,” Clint said, taking a seat. He felt the nerves building before he got a push back of emotions through his bond, Natasha trying to make him feel calmer, confident. It was a small offering that Clint wasn’t expecting. “I talked to my soulmate today and… we are trying to figure out a way to make this work.”

“I thought you said-” Brock began.

“I know. I know, but I can’t just…” Clint groaned and sank into the chair more. “I can’t just let things rot and make us both miserable until either one of us dies or the bond breaks. And despite her attitude on day one- I don’t think she really wants that either.”

“So what does this have to do with going to see Tony?” Jack asked.

Brock perked up a bit, grinning. “Were you lying this whole time?” he asked. “Oh man, it’s Stark, isn’t it? You are keeping this-”

“It’s a different Avenger who lives there,” Clint said in a rushed manner. “It’s… the Black Widow.”

Jack held Brock’s knee, and Clint knew something had to have pulsed through their bond to make him want to ground Brock down. Brock, however, didn’t look grounded. “You are fuckin’ with us,” he said blandly.

“I’m not,” Clint answered.

“Clint, that’s dangerous as hell,” Brock said, his voice straining as it struggled to keep control. “Even when I was joking that it was Stark- I thought you meant maybe someone on the staff. Like a support or something. I didn’t actually think-”

“She said she didn’t want this, that love was for children and so was this whole soulmate business,” Clint paraphrased and watched Brock’s jaw tighten down. “And I think… I think she’s scared to let anyone close to her. Let anyone in. Especially me. But we’re trying.”

“I don’t like it,” Brock said definitively, not missing a beat or letting any quiet settle in.

“Yeah, well, I don’t really have a choice in the end, do I?” Clint asked helplessly. “I didn’t think it would get this messy. But it’s better than I thought. I mean, I was thinking that it was going to be a mobster or something with the way she always seemed to get hurt.”

“Oh no, instead she’s a bigger target on a grander stage,” Brock snapped.

“Brock,” Jack said gently. “If she’s Clint’s soulmate, you need to respect that.”

“She literally made him cry the first time they met!” Brock exclaimed. “She wanted to toss him to the side, keep him out of her life. And I’m supposed to  _ respect _ that?”

Clint chewed on his lip and looked at Jack. Jack had nothing to offer him and gave him a small shrug. “I think she was hoping it would keep me out of danger,” Clint said carefully. “No, I mean, I know it. She basically said it today.” Clint let his head drop. “I know what she did the first time through wasn’t right. And I know that this is dangerous. But you know that I can’t stop this,” he said weakly. “I either feed into this and make myself happy, or I stay as far away but I’ll never be as happy as I was when I finally got to hold her and felt like I found home. And I know you know what that feels like because you have that with Jack.”

Clint looked back up. Jack was looking at Brock, likely having some kind of psychic conversation with each other. Jack looked more relaxed than he had just moments ago while Brock still looked upset by the new knowledge, he looked resigned, more at peace. Jack’s hand squeezed Brock’s thigh and Brock sighed, putting his hand over Jack’s.

“We both want whatever makes you happy,” Brock said. “But you are going to play this smart, Clint. You are going to take more classes on how to defend yourself. You need to. You’re going to have to learn how to shoot.”

“I know how to shoot a gun,” Clint protested.

“I mean shoot one more than once, even if it makes your ears ring, because if something stupid happens to you because you hate guns, so help me I am going to murder you myself,” Brock said sternly, his forearms coming down to his thighs and he leaned in. “I got a buddy I’ll hook you up with. Real nice guy- he’ll take it slow. But you need to get over your fear of using a gun.”

“I already know archery,” Clint tried to argue.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure the pretty redhead doesn't have bows and arrows just laying around. What do you think?” Brock asked sarcastically to drive in the point. “Clint. Jack and I care about you. Fuck, you’re basically his brother at this point. If you pursue this, you need to think smarter.” Brock reached put and cuffed Clint’s head lightly. “We all know you're smart- you might have to prove it someday.”

“So, uh- you can’t tell anyone,” Clint added nervously.

“Oh, and you mean make  _ sure _ people know you two are together?” Brock asked with a laugh.

“Clint,” Jack said. Clint drew his attention back over to Jack. “It’s going to be okay.”

It felt good hearing that come from Jack, and Clint felt like he could finally relax. “They want me to come over on my birthday. Natasha- she said you both should come.”

Jack looked surprised by that and looked over at Brock. “I think we can swing that. What do you think, sweetheart?”

Brock snorted and shoved at Jack. “Stop trying to butter me up.” He looked at Clint and nodded, smiling a fraction, which relieved Clint even further. “If you want us there, we’ll be there. I might have to come in my sweats and Tshirt though.”

“And let everyone know you’re a fireman?” Clint asked, smirking. “You’re upstaging me.”

Brock laughed and shook his head. “Christ, you’re a shit. Come on, I’m hungry for steak and potatoes. You’re buying.”

“Yeah, least you can do for making us worry about you and stress eat monster cookies,” Jack commented when Brock held a hand down, helping his partner up.

“You guys are assholes,” Clint answered with no heat behind the words. “Yeah, I’ll buy.”

Clint woke up on his birthday like it was every other day. He stayed in bed for as long as his body would allow him, looking up at the ceiling. There was a vibration of nervousness on his bond that he couldn’t quite figure out. It wasn’t strong, it wasn’t something that really concerned Clint, but he found it odd that it was there.  _ Call me _ he thought before he got up, going to the bathroom and brushing his teeth. He was halfway through his routine when his phone went off. Clint ran and grabbed it, saw the random number and answered.

“What’s going on?” he answered, walking back to the bathroom.

“ _ Nothing. Is there something you need? _ ” Natasha asked, straight to the point.

“You tell me,” Clint answered before he continued to brush his teeth.

The other line was quiet and Clint didn’t let it bother him. Clint spit out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth before he looked into the mirror. He leaned in and swiped the sleepiness from his eyes before he tried to wrangle in his hair.

“ _ How did your conversation go with your friends? _ ” Natasha asked eventually.

“Oh, just great,” Clint answered. “Brock pretty much hates you. Don’t take it personally- Brock hated me when I first met him too. Jack is more worried about what this could mean in the long run than anything. Brock too. But they are soulmates too so they can understand this better than anyone I guess.”

Clint walked out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom, finding clothes to change into. “ _ Are we making a mistake? _ ” Natasha asked. Clint looked at the phone. “ _ I know you are going to say no. But I need to know- do you think this will be a mistake? _ ”

Clint sat on the question for a minute, setting his phone down to pull his shirt off and get a new one on. “I think we won’t know until we’ve run through this a few times,” he answered. “Are you concerned about meeting my friends?” he asked. “Or is it something else?”

“ _ Something else. I can handle people not liking me, _ ” Natasha answered easily. “ _ What time are you three planning on being here? _ ”

Clint hummed as he struggled to get his pants on, hopping a little as he tugged with one hand. “Hmm. About six? Seven? Somewhere in there. Brock works today, so does Jack, but Jack doesn’t work all day. Hey! So if I make some treats up, you think people there will eat them?” he asked, struggling to get his jeans buttons. “Awww, button, no… work with me.” There was a soft snort on the other side of the phone. “No laughing at my misery.”

“ _ You are going to make treats? _ ” Natasha asked. Clint hummed in agreement before he let out a whooping cry when the button finally cooperated. “ _ I will say with one hundred percent certainty that the barbarians I live with will devour whatever you bring, and happily so. I should warn you- a few of them can really pack the food away. And they will eat just about anything. Trust me… they eat Steve’s cooking occasionally. _ ”

Clint blinked and switched ears. “He can’t cook?”

“ _ None of us can cook anything too impressive, _ ” Natasha answered. “ _ It is your birthday though. And not to ruin the big surprise, but Stark ordered a cake. Jack might be making it. _ ”

Clint chuckled and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bagel and some cream cheese. “I bake when I’m bored or stressed. And unless I can come up with something to do today, I guess I will be bored.”

Clint hadn’t noticed that the nervous vibrations had left until they were back. “ _ You… can always come here early. Teach me how you stress bake _ .”

Clint paused in his strides before he grabbed a knife and tried to spread the cream cheese on his bagel. “If you want me to, sure. I can do that. I, uh- I might need help bringing the supplies over though? One hand and all. And I don’t have a car so the subway-”

“ _ Text me what you need, ingredients and all, and I will make sure they are delivered _ ,” Natasha said. “ _ You might get an audience. Tony was kicked out of his labs for the day because he almost blew something up. Bruce likes cooking, so there is that. And Sam is a mooch. _ ”

Clint smiled and ducked his head. He held the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could play with his hair. “You know what? Just tell everyone I’ll be there early and whoever wants to help can help. It’s hard to mix one handed. Maybe we’ll do cupcakes or something- cookies. Something where I can make sure they turn out right and the disasters that are the Avengers can decorate without feeling like they are going to ruin the taste.”

That nervous vibration mellowed out to a sense of calm, happiness, and Clint enjoyed knowing that he actually helped her with that. “ _ Send me a text. Will you be here for lunch? _ ”

“You know what? Sure. Let’s do lunch. Should I stop and-”

“ _ Stark has it. Are you allergic to anything? _ ”

“No ma’am,” Clint answered.

“ _ Good. Text me _ .”

The phone call ended and Clint sighed, content. He sent a text with what they would need to make box cupcakes, including pre-made frostings, food dye, and sprinkles. He checked the list over, making sure he got all the ingredients listed, and he sent the text out to what he could now call Natasha’s number. 

Clint sent Jack and Brock a text, explaining the situation and promising to meet them at the fire station at the agreed upon time. He finished his sloppily made bagel and double checked that everything was turned off in the apartment before he headed out. The only stops he wanted to make on the way was to the animal shelter to drop off the treats he had made a few days previous, and stop by Ms Luther’s home to make sure she was taken care of and had everything she needed. Clint found himself attached to the little old lady who fed the squirrels and that random chipmunk.

By the time Clint arrived it was about eleven in the morning. He looked up at the Tower with the same amount of nerves he had the last time he was there. He strolled in and looked around at all the bustling, trying to avoid being run into.

“Badge,” a security officer said.

“I, uh- don’t have one?” Clint said. “I’m here to meet-”

“I’ve got him.” Clint turned and looked at the man who walked over, dressed casually as he held out his badge. The woman scanned it.

“Good morning, Dr. Banner.”

“Good morning, Ethyl,” Bruce said. “Good morning, Clint. I believe you agreed to everyone calling you that.”

Clint stared for a moment before his brain kicked into gear. He took Bruce’s outstretched hand and smiled. “Hey, hi. I did.” Clint gave him a bright smile and walked alongside him. “Sorry we haven’t met yet. Still new.”

“Well, welcome to the Tower,” Bruce said, walking alongside Clint. “It can become chaotic at times- you are in a building filled with some pretty large personalities. Aside from the occasional kitchen fire, lab fire, robot and alien attacks, lightning show, and- well, an endless list really, everyone here tends to get along and respect each other.” Bruce took Clint into an elevator he was familiar with and the door closed. “I believe everyone is meeting in the communal kitchen.”

“Sounds good to me,” Clint agreed. “Can I ask you something?” Bruce nodded. “How do you do it? You seem like one of the less chaotic ones here, not that I have met everyone. But how do you deal with all the chaos?”

Bruce gave Clint a quirky smile before he looked away. “Everyone always wants to know that. Same with how I keep the big guy at bay.”

“Important questions,” Clint said with a chuckle and a shrug.

Bruce smiled and looked down at his loafers. “A lot of meditation, a lot of patience, and a lot of understanding,” he answered. “And a lot of love for the people I am around.”

Clint nodded. “Sage advice.”

“Lived a few years,” Bruce answered. He was the first to walk out once the elevator opened.

The first one Clint was greeted with was Tony. “You mean to tell me that you are a baker… and you are having us bake box cake?” he asked.

Clint held up his casted arm and grinned. “I’m a baker. From my understanding you all try to burn down the Tower on the daily. So there is no way I am having you screw up perfectly good ingredients on your lack of skills.”

A man he hadn’t met yet laughed. “Oh, I like this one, Red,” he said to Natasha. He walked over and extended his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

“Hey, Clint.” Clint shook his hand and smiled before he looked at Natasha. “Red?”

“Don’t start,” she said in a playful tone. 

Clint couldn’t help but to notice the way she looked exhausted. He reached out carefully, but he couldn’t get any real feels from the bond, Natasha perfectly masking everything like she tended to do. Clint tried to think back the night before, but he didn’t catch any sinking feelings, and he hadn’t been woken up by any nightmares. He gave her a puzzled look but Natasha didn’t seem to want to offer anything back that could tell him anything.

“So… what? We’re all baking?” Clint asked, walking into the massive kitchen and looking at the excessive amount of supplies. “Holy shit,” he breathed.

“We figured we’d screw up a few times,” Steve admitted, sounding painfully embarrassed.

Clint nodded before he smiled. “Hell yeah! Aprons!” he cheered. “Okay! Suit up. Let’s do this!”

It really was a disaster by definition. Clint was pretty sure he had seen more safety violations in the kitchen than he had ever seen in his life. And reminding them to  _ wash their hands _ after cracking the eggs was becoming a motto he was going to hang up- the only one who could crack an egg properly was Sam, Bruce being a close second. The rest had varying degrees of yoke on their fingers. Clint grabbed a wooden spoon and threw it at Steve at one point, stopping him from licking his fingers- he threatened to do the same with Tony over the cake batter.

By the time the cupcakes were out and cooling, Clint was pretty sure had aged a full year. But not a single person in the room looked upset, all of them cracking jokes, fighting over who got to use what first. It was heartwarming to watch, which Clint did from a small distance. There was something about watching a band of people known for kicking ass dissolve into school age children when it came to sprinkles.

“You know you’re allowed in the circle, right?” Natasha asked, walking over to Clint. “You don’t get invited here and not fully included. Not the way any of them roll.”

“Seems dangerous with Thor and that crackling thing he is doing to toast the cupcakes,” Clint admitted, feeling a little tired. Natasha shrugged and stood just a few feet away. “Did you have fun?” he asked.

“I had more fun watching you nail Steve with a wooden spoon, and smack Tony’s hands away from licking the spoon,” Natasha admitted. “Did you have fun? You look exhausted.”

“It was fun- a lot of work,” Clint said, teetering his hand. “It’s like being in a room with kindergarteners and reminding them that they shouldn’t eat the glue.” Natasha smiled and ducked her head down. “Did… you want me here early or was this their idea?” Clint asked. Natasha looked up and frowned. “No, I just- okay, that came out-”

“I wanted you here,” Natasha admitted. Clint smiled and leaned against the wall. “Anyway, it’s the perfect excuse to have extra snacks in the Tower,” she said, teasing him.

“Ah yes. I am now the token snack bringer and maker, aren’t I?”

“I think you know the answer,” Natasha said. “Want to ditch?” she asked. “Grab our lunch and head somewhere quieter?”

Clint nodded and the pair snuck out, grabbing their boxed lunch before standing in the elevator. Clint couldn’t figure out why it made him nervous, being alone with her, going somewhere quieter with her. Whatever it was, he felt a slight bit of nerves coming off of her too. Neither of them tried to reach each other and comfort the other, letting them settle into their emotions more naturally.

“Just going to say it- if you brought me up to the roof to push me off… I can still run,” Clint joked.

“Darn. You found out my plan,” Natasha replied and took a seat at the patio furniture. Clint walked closer, noticed they were all bolted down before he took a seat. “I hope you like shawarma because that is what Tony wanted for today.”

“I eat pretty much anything and everything,” Clint answered. He settled the box in his lap and opened the lid, breathing in the scent. “And this smells way too good to pass up.”

They sat and ate in silence. Clint turned in his seat occasionally, taking in the view. He hadn’t made it to the Empire State Building yet, which was just as tall, if not a little shorter, than the Tower. The view was breathtaking, and the noise from the city was a distant hum from below. A part of him thought that the height would bother him, but the breeze catching his hair was worth any amount of fear he felt.

“If you could have anything for your birthday, what would it be?” Natasha asked. “It has to be something tangible. No world peace chat.”

Clint wiped his hand on a napkin. “I don’t know. I don’t really want anything. Not a fan of being given gifts. Ask Brock and Jack.” Natasha gave him a pointed look. “Okay, fine,” Clint groaned, thinking. “I guess maybe a compound bow?” he said. “They are expensive but pretty cool.”

“I forgot you like to shoot,” Natasha said. She set her box to the side, an awkward look on her face as she debated with herself. Clint waited until she could make up her mind. “It was about… ten years ago now. I was having a bad night, and I think you had to have known it because I felt you being agitated or something. I thought I was losing my mind when suddenly the wash of happiness and calm settled in. That was the first time I experienced how you felt when you did archery.”

“How do you know it was that?”

“You were repeating the steps in your head at first,” Natasha said. “It was quiet. Pull back the bowstring, lower your shoulders, loose at exhale. Or something. I can’t remember. I haven’t heard it since.” Natasha looked out at the city. “You got me through a very long night that night. It was only for an hour, but I felt it longer than that. I guess it helped me to keep hanging on.”

Clint nodded and looked away as well. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.

“It’s okay to say nothing,” Natasha answered and Clint barely caught her eyes as she turned to look at him. “The nightmares- what do they feel like in the day?”

“Intense panic,” Clint answered. “It was… difficult to manage at first. I couldn’t exactly tell people in a small town that I felt you and heard you.” Clint played with his cast, pulling at the small frey. “It's how I learned to keep a poker face when I needed to. Helped me learn how to lie, though I guess I was already pretty good at that.”

After she was quiet for several minutes, Clint finally looked over at Natasha, that mask almost gone, cracked enough for Clint to get a sense of how she felt without having to rely on the bond. “Whatever it is- we don’t have to talk about it.” Natasha shook her head and closed her eyes. “Hey- no. Nat,” Clint said, getting up and moved to sit next to her before he wrapped his arms around her just as her body shook. “It’s okay. Hey, it’s fine. You’re fine,” he cooed softly, running a hand down her head, smoothing out her hair. Whatever it was, it hurt and Clint closed his eyes. “I won’t tell,” he whispered.

Clint couldn’t keep track of how long they were there. He felt her body shake, a few tears hit his arm before she turned into him. Clint leaned back and she followed until he was flat on the couch, Natasha settling on his chest. Clint watched the clouds that passed, trying to ignore their bond to give her whatever privacy he could until he felt a tug that told him to give some sort of reaction, some reassurance.

Some part of him knew that something was wrong; nothing that was physical but something deep down, something she had been holding onto. Clint wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about that yet, he wasn’t sure when he would be ready, or when she would be ready. But as she slowly calmed down, her breathing leveling out as her fingers traced the muscles in his arm, Clint was pretty sure that something had settled between them.

“I need to go,” Clint murmured. “Go grab Brock and Jack, bring them here.”

Natasha nodded once before she sat up. Clint followed her up and ran his hand through his hair. Natasha gathered the trash without a word and walked back inside with Clint, excusing herself when she got to her floor, disappearing. Clint touched the bond for just a minute, testing the waters to make sure she was still okay before he left the Tower.

He made it to the fire station before he heard the sirens, felt his wrist vibrate and he looked down to see the Avengers alert. Clint felt a surge of panic for a moment, and then a strong backlash of something soothing to calm him down. He got the text not too long after.  _ Rain check _ was all Natasha wrote, and Clint couldn’t argue that.

“So… no party tonight,” Jack guessed when he got to the station. “Brock is staying over to assist in whatever is happening on the other side of town.”

“No party tonight,” Clint agreed. “Come on, let’s go home and celebrate over some beer, some pizza, and a shitty movie.”

Jack nodded and headed out with Clint. “Did you at least have a good birthday?” Jack asked.

Clint smiled and nodded. “It wasn’t bad. I’d do it again.”

Clint was happy when he finally laid down to go to sleep- he hadn’t felt anything painful pulse through their bond. Natasha had to be okay.

It was two days before Natasha reached out to Clint, calling him towards the end of his shift. Clint washed his hands quickly and answered the phone, turning it on speaker. “Natasha,” he greeted as he started cleaning up the mess in the kitchen.

“ _ What are you and your friends doing tonight _ ?” Natasha asked, cutting straight to the chase. Clint tried not to pout about it. “ _ I’m sorry. Hello Clint. How are you? _ ”

“Hey, stop using the bond against me,” Clint shouted from across the room. “And I am good, thank you. Cleaning up. Uh- nothing. We just had plans to grab something for dinner out tonight.”

“ _ Can I convince you to convince them to try coming out to the Tower again? _ ” Natasha asked. “ _ I should meet them. Apologize for your birthday. _ ”

Clint stopped in his tracks and tilted his head. “You… got called out for a mission. I am pretty sure that comes with the whole… oh hold on.” Clint picked up his phone. “Sorry, speaker phone at work.”

“ _ You left this on speaker? _ ” Natasha asked and Clint felt a pulse of nerves run through him.

“I’m back here by myself, I sent everyone else home,” Clint answered. “Calm down. I’m a big boy. I don’t need to be all super charged to handle myself.” Clint didn’t notice how offended he sounded until he finished his sentence. “What I meant was-”

“ _ No, you are correct. You are an adult, you may be perfectly able to care for yourself, _ ” Natasha relented, although she didn’t sound so sure about it. “ _ I am pushing past your comfort zone, and I need to learn to pull myself back from making those comments. _ ”

“Uh-” Nothing intelligent was coming to Clint’s mind. “Okay, so… thank you? No, thank you. Okay, so let me talk it over with Brock and Jack, and I will call you back, okay?”

“ _ Thank you _ .”

Clint sighed when the phone hung up promptly at that moment. He told himself that he needed to be patient, get used to the abruptness that was Natasha when she talked. She always wanted to get straight to the point, and that was something Clint wasn’t used to just yet. But she had tried, twice even, to reign things back in- Clint knew he was going to have to do the same, and Clint knew how to bend.

It took some convincing, Brock digging his heels in more than Jack, but Clint convinced them that it would be worth it. Clint shot off a quick text to Natasha, saying they would be there in roughly forty minutes and asked if she wanted him to pick up dinner. Natasha assured him she had it handled. Brock didn’t look so sure but Jack reached out to settle him.

“It’s big, ain’it?” Brock asked as they walked up to the Tower.

“About as big as the ego that had it built,” Clint jested lightly as he opened the door.

It was like a laser focus, Clint’s narrowing in on Natasha. Unlike for his birthday where she had been dressed more casually, tonight Natasha wore a dress with heels that put her closer to Clint’s height. She managed a forced smile.

“Clint,” she greeted with a little more affection than Clint had expected.

“Natasha, this is Brock and Jack. Guys, same,” Clint introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jack said, holding a hand out first, which Natasha accepted.

“This way,” Natasha said, turning and walking. “We’re eating up on the roof- it’s a nice night for it.”

“To murder us,” Brock murmured. 

Clint elbowed him in the ribs as he walked, shooting a glare at him. Brock didn’t look at all phased, watching Natasha as if he was waiting for her to attack. Clint could almost feel the nerves building between Jack and Brock. Clint carefully reached out, tried to get a feel for Natasha. While she held a nervous undertone, she mostly felt as if everything was fine- everything was calm. She glanced at Clint when they all settled in the elevator and tried to give him a reassuring smile, a light buzz through their bond.

Natasha led them to a table that had a few boxes of pizza already set down on it. “Oh hell yeah,” Clint cheered, briskly making his way to the table, flipping open a top and breezing it in. “A supreme,” he said, wanting to drool. He grabbed a plate. “Hey, thanks.”

“Least I can do- it was supposed to be pizza on your birthday for dinner,” Natasha said with a shrug.

Everyone grabbed their share and sat down. Clint could still feel the tension, and he wasn’t quite sure how to break it without saying something he would likely regret. He glanced at Brock then Natasha. Brock still looked pissed, ready to have words while Natasha looked like she was trying to ignore it.

“So… Natasha,” Jack said, finally speaking up. “You are from Russia?”

“I am,” Natasha answered. “Born and raised- left when I was eighteen. Been back a few times for my job, but otherwise I tend to avoid the country.”

“You have traveled a lot of places, I’m sure. Do you have a favorite?” Jack asked. “Brock and myself- we are thinking about traveling this year for our anniversary. Clint is capable of running the store while we’re gone.”

Natasha forced a small smile. “Are you more adventurous or lay on the beach types?”

“Adventurist, right Brock?” Jack asked, looking over at his soulmate before he elbowed him. Brock just nodded.

“I suppose in the end it depends on your budget then,” Natasha said, cleaning her hands off with a napkin. “For more budget friendly options, I know a lot of people enjoy Cape Town, Africa. Personally, I prefer India to Africa for the art and architecture. If you want to stay in the states, I know people pick Hawaii a lot but I found that I really enjoyed Alaska. I do not enjoy cruises, so I cannot help you there.”

“You don’t like cruises?” Clint asked, looking over.

“You are in the middle of open water where everything could go wrong. People tend not to be… cleanly, and outbreaks can happen,” Natasha explained. “There is also the case of if you get hurt, you are far from a healthcare system you are familiar with and can become expensive quickly.”

Clint blinked. “Huh. I always wanted to try a cruise,” Clint commented. “Or maybe go on a beach vacation. Just lay in the sand, not a care in the world.”

“So I’ve got a question,” Brock said, that edge in his voice that made Clint feel anxious. Natasha’s hand found his knee and gave it a squeeze. “Where exactly do you see this going with Clint? Because the first day he met you he wasn’t impressed and now he is willing to give it a go.”

“Brock,” Clint said with a bit of a whine.

“It’s a fair question,” Natasha said softly. She took a deep breath. “I made a miscalculation when I met Clint. I decided if this was something he wanted to explore, I should give him that opportunity. He set hard boundaries, which I am trying to adhere to. I thought between the two of us we could figure something out that works, whether it is platonic or otherwise.”

“You realize how dangerous this can be?” Brock asked. “Him coming here- someone is going to notice.”

“I completely agree,” Natasha said, her hand removing from Clint’s knee and finding its way to his thigh. “And I hope he decides to learn self-defense, or whatever he can in order to help protect himself. I cannot be everywhere at once, and I cannot expect him to limit his activities because it’s dangerous. There needs to be a balance, and I am confident that he will take it seriously.” Natasha looked over at Clint and gave him a nod. “But it is up to him.”

Clint gave her a warm smile before he looked at Brock and Jack. The look on Brock’s face, the slowly creeping smirk made Clint flinch. “What? What’s that look for?”

“Nothing. She agrees with me on learning self-defense,” Brock hinted.

Clint wrinkled his nose and glanced between the two. “Yeah, I’m not going to like you both when you start getting along…”

“Might have to start that sooner than I thought,” Brock taunted, looking smug.

Natasha raised an eyebrow and let go of Clint’s thigh before she leaned in, her arms on the table. “You’ve had this conversation with him too?” she asked. Brock chuckled and nodded. “I recognize you. It took me a minute. You work for Fire Station 8, don’t you?”

“I do,” Brock answered. “Seen your group in action a few times. And after action.”

“Same,” Natasha said. “I know you probably hear this all the time, and it might come out sounding hollow. But thank you.” Clint reached out and felt an underlying sense of pride in Natasha. “The first responders in this city make sure everything happens- make sure the civilians are taken care of when these events pop up. You don’t get near enough credit for your positions so… thank you.”

“Trying to decide if you are just saying that because you want me to like you or not,” Brock teased. “Either way I’ll take it.” He raised his glass and Natasha grabbed hers to knock against his to take a drink. “I don’t normally see you when I am out.”

“I like to stay as unseen as possible, it’s my job on the team,” Natasha answered. “Not that I need to be behind the scenes. I just work better alone and when I have free range. It’s… difficult to explain.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Brock said confidently. He checked his phone. “I need to be getting home, I have to go in for volunteer day tomorrow. All the kids coming to learn about smoke safety and they picked me. Terrible choice,” he joked as he got up from the table, holding a hand out to Jack to help him. “Coming, Clint?”

“I… think I might stay behind for a minute,” Clint answered.

“It was nice meeting you two,” Natasha said, standing up. “Sorry the last planned meeting got cancelled.”

“Brock ended up working extra hours that night anyway,” Jack commented, an arm around Brock’s shoulders. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you. Just take the elevator to the lobby, correct?”

Clint watched his friends go, not feeling quite as nervous as he had before. Natasha sat down and relaxed, pulling her legs up onto the bed as she smoothed out her dress. “I think I can win him over,” she commented.

Clint snorted and looked down. “I bet you can. Brock takes a minute. He doesn’t like letting too many people close. He’s kind of like you in that regard. And once he  _ does _ let someone in-”

“Protective. I do enjoy that,” Natasha commented. She played with the hem of her dress before she looked up at Clint. “If you could go anywhere in the world, you would do a cruise?” she asked.

“Well- no,” Clint relented. “I just picked a cruise because I thought it was probably a cheaper option. I don’t know where I would want to go. There’s so many sights to see and I don’t think I’d see half of ‘em. Don’t have the time, don’t have the money,” Clint explained. “But I guess if I had to pick somewhere- I once saw a picture of those water hut things in the Maldives. I think that would be cool. Or maybe the pyramids in Mexico?”

“The pyramids in Mexico,” Natasha repeated with a laugh.

“They look cool,” Clint shrugged. “I want to travel and see it all, and it’s hard picking where to start.” Clint pulled his legs up and stretched, lacing his fingers over his head and leaning either way. “I guess first should be somewhere with a beach. Maybe Hawaii. There we go. Maybe I should visit all the states first. That’s a starting point.”

“That is,” Natasha agreed. “I’m sorry for tonight. For holding your knee and your thigh. The extended touching- I know that’s on the list of things-”

“It’s okay,” Clint insisted, cutting her off. Natasha looked puzzled. “I said those things because I was upset and I didn’t want this to fizzle out from trying to be a friendship of some sort. But you’re trying, I know you are, I can feel it. So I need to try too, which means I need to trust that you aren’t trying to pull one over on me.”

Natasha nodded and sat up. “Would you like to come inside for a nightcap?” she asked.

Clint stood up and held a hand out, helping Natasha to his feet. “I don’t drink much,” he admitted. “I… guess you probably already knew that.”

“I did,” Natasha answered. “Let me see you out then? Do you want a lift home?”

“I’m fine to walk.” Clint walked with her onto the elevator. “Thank you for inviting us tonight. I appreciate it.” Natasha nodded and looked straight ahead. “We’ll have to figure out when we can get together again. Maybe do something fun? I heard a rumor there is a pool in this building and I love to swim.”

Natasha glanced up at him through her lashes. “You heard right. Maybe next time you should bring your bathing suit. Or-” Natasha hesitated. “You could always bring your archery things, go to the range and show us how it’s done.”

“That’s a thought,” Clint mused. “I dunno. Shooting around professionals might be intimidating as hell.”

“I think as long as you are having fun, you’ll manage,” Natasha replied. 

She walked off the elevator with him and pulled him off to the side, looking around. Clint looked around, no one in sight but she was looking for something, that much he knew. He gave her a questioning look when she focused on him. With one hand on his chest, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. Clint felt his stomach flip and his face heat up. “Goodnight, Lyubov’ moja.”

“I… I don’t know Russian,” Clint admitted.

“That is the point,” Natasha answered. “It may as well mean my tomato to you, considering how red you are.” That certainly didn’t help Clint’s case. “Safe travels.”

“T-thank you,” Clint muttered, turning and walking out, his heart a little lighter.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the course of the following two months, Clint made many trips out to the Tower, sometimes with Happy, sometimes on his own. Balancing his life at the bakery with his life at the Tower was a weird mixture of stress and relaxation that felt a little like whiplash. But so far, Clint managed to stay under the radar enough that no one seemed to put him together with Natasha, or the Avengers in general. 

His shared time with Natasha became softer, more predictable. The range of emotions seemed to stay under control, and felt a little more natural. Whatever had happened on his birthday hadn’t come up yet, which Clint was fine with. He wanted Natasha to hang onto whatever secrets she felt she needed to. The only secret he tried to pull her from was what  _ Lyubov’ moja  _ meant, but she would dodge it every time. Aside from being a tomato, he was also told it could mean her idiot, a blip in time, a tall man, and an archer. That secret seemed to make Natasha the most happy, and Clint was hoping he could keep asking just to see that mischievous look in her eyes as she thought of something clever. 

The days they spent together was a weird mix of a lot of things. Sometimes Natasha forced Clint to go down to the gym, practice self-defense, which left a smug, pleased smirk on Brock’s face when Clint retold his day to his friends. Sometimes they would go down to the range and Clint brought his bow with him, shooting at targets, making shapes, doing whatever Natasha asked him to do. Sometimes Clint would sit there and teach her sign language at her request, and that made his heart flip and kick, which would then make Natasha laugh. 

Other days Natasha looked too tired to do much.She didn’t seem like she was in pain, she just seemed exhausted with everything around her. Those days they would crash on the couch on the communal floor and watch movies or the television. There had only been twice that Clint fell asleep during those days, left alone to sleep until he was ready to go.

And then there were days like August fourth, where Clint wanted to stay holed up be himself. Clint  _ hated _ August fourth because it was the one day that Clint couldn’t think of anything else outside of Barney. It was Barney’s birthday, his thirtieth to be exact, and Clint was going through the emotions like he always had. He missed his brother, he missed having a family, but he resented everything that came along with his brother.

He felt that pull on the bond, the question hanging there and Clint shoved it away. He was faintly aware that his phone had gone off, and he ignored it, which only made the pull stronger. It was the first time in months that Clint wished that he could have privacy, could go through whatever he wanted to go through without having someone know he was feeling self-pity. It was embarrassing. 

The only thing Clint had going for him was that Natasha didn’t know where he lived, or at least Clint didn’t think she did, so he could be alone. Brock and Jack took a much needed vacation and Clint was trying to pull extra shifts at the bakery, trying to keep everything in balance. Of course, the one day he had off would be Barney’s birthday.

He hadn’t talked to Barney since he was sixteen. Barney had found himself wrapped up in criminal activity, something Clint very strongly was opposed to. He had convinced Clint to come out, that they were just going out to shoot. Not only was Clint taken out of state, but the moment Barney had pulled up to a mansion, people jumping out of a van, Clint started shouting. Clint ended that day with three arrows lodged in him and left for dead on the side of the road. The next thing he could remember was waking up and being told what had happened. At least Barney came clean, cleared up Clint’s name so that he wasn’t thrown in jail for a crime he didn’t commit.

Clint still couldn’t forgive Barney for that day, eleven years later. He could still feel where the arrows had embedded when the weather changed suddenly. He could still hear him saying that their father was right as he stole Clint’s wallet. The one person Clint thought he could count on no matter what was the one person that had tried to kill him. Clint was at least happy to know that Barney had another ten plus years on his prison sentence. Barney was a future-Clint problem.

A sharp knock on the door drew Clint’s attention and he groaned. He dragged himself up and over, ready to yell at Natasha for not respecting his privacy, or Steve or Happy. He was prepared to sound like an asshole while slamming the door shut in their face. He didn’t bother to look out of the peephole. Instead, he unlocked the door and opened it.

He hated how fast things could fall apart. He felt the door knock into him, digging into his abdomen as it was forced open. He caught sight of three people he didn’t know and he automatically reached for the baseball bat. He could hear what they were saying to him but he didn’t allow himself a moment to process it. All he needed to see was one gun and he was swinging, letting his adrenaline carry him into action.

Clint tried to keep himself out of a spot where he couldn’t have free motion. Clint tried to remember every lesson he had with Natasha, with Brock, other instructors. And Clint thought it had been working out well for him. He saw a few people back off, he knocked two guns away. He was pretty sure the two hands he had hit were broken, but he couldn’t be sure. And he was sure by now that Natasha was on her way because he felt and heard her at the same time  _ Just stay alive. _

The first sharp pain drew Clint back to reality and he looked down at his stomach, an arrow sticking out from his left lower quadrant. Clint dropped the bat and screamed at the next shot that was embedded in his arm and he looked up at an arrow nocked and drawn back with ease. Despite the mask, Clint would always know that smirk.

“Hello, baby brother,” Barney said. Clint was too focused on Barney that he didn’t see the next hit coming and he crumpled down to the ground.

Clint woke up in a cold room, laying on a cold, hard floor. His head felt fuzzy, his stomach both on fire and queasy. Clint opened his eyes, tried to focus on a white brick wall before his eyes focused on his bandaged arm. He tried to pull himself up, or at least move a little, but the best he could do was wiggle his fingers.

Clint tried to reach out to his soulbond but it was quiet. He tried to scream into the void, but he was met with nothing. He closed his eyes and swallowed back his emotions, trying to keep himself calm. He couldn’t hear, he couldn’t focus, and he could barely move.  _ Okay, this feels bad _ he thought to himself.

He felt a sharp pain in his arm and he opened his eyes to look up at Barney, who smiled before he dragged him to a wall, the pain ebbing away from his arm and replaced with a pain in his side.Clint weakly tried to push past the drugs to fight back until his back was against a wall and a hearing aid was being shoved in his ear.

“Did you sleep well?” Barney asked and Clint looked at Barney, keeping his face as blank as he could. “Oh come on, Clint. I thought you would be happy to see me. Been a decade.”

“You shot me… twice,” Clint muttered.

“The first time was your fault,” Barney said. “Second time was… well, because it was fun and you had a baseball bat.” Clint closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little, trying to find a comfortable position.

“What do you want?” Clint asked.

“Nothing. You’re just bait,” Barney said. “I do have to thank you.” Clint opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows. “You told me about your freaky soulbond. You told me how you could feel her, was positive it was a female. And then you got caught leaving Avengers Tower more than once.” Clint grunted and closed his eyes. “Come on, be proud of me.”

“Congratulations. You could put two and two together. A real detective,” Clint murmured. His head snapped to the side at the punch and his shoulders jerked forward when Barney grabbed his shirt. “Oh fuck off, Barney. Either fucking tell me your super secret supervillain plan that is probably someone else’s because you’ve always been a follower, beat me up, or get the fuck away from me.”

“You think you are so brave, don’t you?” Barney asked. Clint opened his eyes and glared at his brother. “You think you are so tough, so strong. You’re none of those things, Clint. Never were. You’re just a bitch ass kid from Iowa who decided to become a baker. A  _ baker _ ,” he stressed with a laugh. “But you do have some use to me now.”

“Something lame about drawing the Avengers out?” Clint guessed, his jaw aching from the impact. “Oh so original.”

“No, we don’t need them all- just one,” Barney said. Clint sighed as dramatically as he could. “A Russian assassin trained by the Red Room. Defected after her husband died. That’s right, I said her husband. How hard do you really think it would be to convince her to work for us to save her soulmate?” Barney asked.

“I’m not worth that much to her,” Clint answered. “I’m there to provide a service, a way to ground her after she does whatever shit she does. That’s it.” Barney’s confident smirk began to falter. “That’s right. Let that sink in for a minute. I am that same bitch ass Iowa kid- nobody loves me, nobody needs me. I’m the same waste of oxygen that I always was. Something you reminded me of the last time we ran into each other.”

“You’re lying,” Barney snarled.

“Just wait and see,” Clint said, relaxing himself back, Barney’s hands loosening up. “I’m nothing more than a bond-healer to her. I die, the bond breaks? All the better for her, am I right? Free of being saddled with me.”

Barney stood up and left without a single word. Clint took a shaky breath in and tried to curl into himself a little, try to warm up just a little. Clint laid down as slowly as he could, both of his arms throbbing now alongside the wound on his stomach. Clint managed to curl into a ball and hold his head. His breath radiated off his chest, providing enough heat to kill the shivering. He closed his eyes and tried to think of the bond, tried to reach to her, to find something to latch on to. He didn’t need a lot- Clint never really needed a lot to reassure himself, but he needed more than what he was receiving, which was nothing.

Clint tried not to let his own words sink in because he was afraid if he did he would lose whatever he could cling to in order to survive this ordeal.

Clint couldn’t keep track of the hours but he had a feeling it was verging on day three. He still couldn’t reach his soulbond, couldn’t feel Natasha whatsoever. He realized after two meals that he was being drugged, so he was refusing to eat. He knew this tactic would only get him so far, but he was going to hold onto it as long as he could. He was already feeling a little sharper because of it.

The downside was, he could feel every burning, painful sensation. He was pretty sure his stomach wound was infected- it was the wound that hurt the most and he could see some redness peeking through; Clint didn’t dare remove the bandage. He tried not to move as much as possible once he had found temporary reprieve from those aches, only to have to move again when his back or his hips would get sore from that position.

Movement caught Clint’s eyes and Barney walked into the room with two other people. Barney nodded and the two grabbed Clint under his arms and dragged him out of the room. Clint kicked his legs out, trying to catch hold of doorways to slow the progression. When that didn’t work he tried to get his feet under him, which only resulted in him being dropped once and kicked a few times to his ribs before the dragging commenced.

It was a new room, not quite as cold as the cold, but equally as sterile. His two hearing aids skidded on the floor next to him and Clint snatched them up, fitting them in before he glared at the door. Barney crossed his arms on the other side, a smirk playing out on his face. Clint had dreamed of a time he could be strong enough to punch that smirk right off his face.

“Behave yourself and maybe we’ll let you see her when she arrives,” Barney said before he turned and walked away.

Fear pulsed through Clint in that moment and he stumbled a few steps until he collided with the door, banging on it, knowing full well that it wouldn’t change anything. He tried to pour as much energy he could into the soulbond he had tied to Natasha, squeezed his eyes shut and hunched over, putting as much energy as he could into his core.  _ Stay away. Don’t throw it away for me _ . He repeated it time and time again, hoping at some point she would catch the words, hoping she would listen to him.

Clint couldn’t pretend to know what the Red Room was, or what Barney meant when he said she had defected. He didn’t know she was once an assassin, or maybe still was. But none of that mattered to Clint. All Clint wanted to do was make sure she knew not to throw away everything she had gained for him.

Clint let out a sob and slid down to the ground, his forearms braced against the door. He wanted to let her know that he tried as hard as he could to stop this from happening. He wished he had more time in the apartment, had thought to go to his bedroom, risk being shot so he could grab his bow and fight back that way. He wished he would have listened to Brock’s advice on keeping a gun nearby in the off chance something like this were to happen. 

There were a lot of things he wished for but at the top of the list was that he wished he could tell her that he loved her, even when she didn’t want him to, even when he didn’t want to. He wanted to tell her that despite not knowing her as well as he should, he had loved her since the very first time he heard her speak in Russian through the bond. That the thought of meeting her was what pushed him through so many days growing up, made all the pain worth it through the years because he knew one day he would have something that he could call his, something he wouldn’t have to share. If he had the chance, he would prove to her that despite everything, they could make this work in some way, shape or form, they only needed to want it.

Clint pushed himself away from the door and sat in the middle of the room. He turned his hearing aids off, not wanting to waste any power on blank time. He sat and he stared straight ahead and he gained his composure. The thought of seeing her was the only thing keeping Clint from crawling out of his skin.

Clint was about falling asleep when he caught something and pulled his head up. His eyes widened and he switched on his hearing aids before he got up and raced to the door. “Natasha!”

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked, her voice back to that clinical pitch, her face void of emotion.

“Please don’t do this. Whatever they want you to do- don’t do it,” Clint implored. Natasha’s expression didn’t alter. “Nat, please. Just listen-”

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked again, this time something sharp in her tone and for the first time in days his soulbond felt the words vibrate in him.

“I… I honestly don’t know,” Clint answered. “Look, Nat, it doesn’t-”

“Don’t call me that,” Natasha said. “Sit tight and  _ listen _ . Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Natasha, no,” Clint begged, hitting the door as she began to turn. “Nat! You can’t just-”

Water began to pour down on Clint and he stumbled away from the door, covering his head the best he could. He looked up, his stomach knotting up from the fear he felt, and he couldn’t tell if it were his or hers. Natasha looked in just as the water turned off and Clint could see Barney walking towards her. Clint looked down, saw the pool of water and looked for a drainage system that wasn’t there. 

“You have a day,” Barney said calmly.

“I’ll get it done,” Natasha said. “You hurt him within that time and you are going to regret it,” she warned Barney before she continued to walk.

Clint shivered and hugged himself, watching her go. He looked back at Barney, who was only grinning. “You topped him, that’s for sure,” Clint mentioned. “Never really thought you had it in you to top his bullshit, but you really upped the game. Dad was an abusive son of a bitch, but he wasn’t this.”

“Sometimes you have to use people to get where you need to go,” Barney answered. “Cold, brother?” he asked, his smile a bit more menacing.

Clint nodded, seeing no sense in lying about it. “One of these days someone is going to wipe that smirk off your face, Barney. If that person isn’t me, then I hope someone records it so I can watch it on the bad days.”

“Oh, it won’t be you,” Barney commented before he started to walk, whistling a song that Clint had heard their father whistle several times. “I’ll be back, Clint.”

Clint looked around the room then started moving around it, feeling every nook and cranny he could. He didn’t have a plan- he was too tired, stressed, and hungry to be able to think of something worthwhile. He found a seal and checked the top wall, not seeing a camera so he slowly started to chip and peel away at the seal. He couldn’t do much, but it was about the only thing he got.

When everything eventually became too much Clint found a corner and tucked himself up against it. He could barely keep his eyes open and he got himself into a comfortable position. There was nothing more he could do- he was stuck and he only had one way out. Sleep came easily for him that night, too exhausted to fight it anymore.

The next time Clint woke up he felt something cool and soft touch his face. He jerked his body back away from the touch, his heart feeling like it was going to beat out of his chest. And then that rush of feeling burst through his bond, that possessive  _ mine  _ beating through him. Clint scrunched his face up before he opened his eyes.

Natasha tapped her finger to her lips and Clint only nodded. Everything felt heavy and hot, and the next moment his side felt like it was being ripped apart. A hand covered his mouth before he could scream from the pain and he felt a pulse of anger and something darker go through him, and it terrified him. Clint grabbed at Natasha’s wrist and tried to look down but her hand removed itself and she tipped his head up.

“Don’t look,” she whispered. “I know you are tired and hurt, but I need you to work with me, okay?’

“You did it, you did-” Clint said shakily.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay Lyubov’ moja,” Natasha said gently. “I have to turn the technology back on. But I needed you to see me first so you know this is real. I’m going to get you out of here but I need you to work with me, okay?” Clint barely nodded. “That’s… that’s my soulmate,” she said a little awkwardly before she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. The fear settled for a moment into a feeling of bliss. “You do a good job and I’ll let you soak this in all you want, okay?”

“Okay.”

Clint watched as Natasha hit something on her wrist and she didn’t look like herself anymore. Clint flinched away from her and the woman gave him a sympathetic look.  _ Now scream _ came through the bond strongly so Clint did, he screamed as loud as he could and hunched his body forward. And when she asked, he screamed again, and again.

“What is going on?” Barney asked, entering the room.

“He’s delirious from the infection,” the woman, no Natasha, said. “I’m going to need to take him to medical and try to slow the spread. You should have called me in for this earlier. If he loses an arm, what will she do?” she asked. The aspect of that even being remotely true made Clint scramble against the pain and grab onto Natasha’s arm, clutching it.

“No. no, no no,” Clint cried.

“Then he’ll go to medical,” Barney said, stepping up. “Get up, Clint.”

“Really?” Natasha said dryly to Barney and Clint looked up.

Barney grunted and pulled Clint up roughly, adjusting them so he could almost drag Clint on his feet if he couldn’t bear his own weight. “You would get an infection from this. If you cost us her, you are going to pay, Clint.”

“I’d be dead so what do I care?” Clint muttered. Not appreciating Clint’s mouth, Barney hit his stomach and Clint gasped and doubled over.

“Enough,” Natasha said.

“It’s not like it’s going to kill him,” Barney snapped back. “He’s a hard one to kill, aren’t’cha?” he asked. Clint didn’t bother with a response, instead focusing on breathing and staying upright until they got to the cold medical room where he was deposited on the bed. “The moment he can be moved, he’s going down to the Pit. I don’t want him in a room he can easily get out of.”

“Boss’s orders,” Natasha agreed. She waited until Barney was out of the room before she moved about it. Clint closed his eyes. “In approximately five minutes someone is going to open that ceiling vent above you. You need to climb in and go with them,” she said softly, the nerves building the bond despite Clint trying to push back with something more calming and soothing. Natasha undressed his wounds, giving him a firm look for Clint to keep his eyes averted as she redressed it. Clint bit back a scream before he started breathing again. “Listen to me, Clint. Focus.”

“Fuck,” Clint muttered. “What?”

“This person is going to take you a distance away and you’ll meet up with Brock,” Natasha said.

“Brock? Oh shit, he is doing to kill me,” Clint moaned.

“No, he promised to let me do that,” Natasha teased. “No matter what happens, you need to keep moving west, okay? If the person you are with tells you to keep going, keep moving west.”

“West,” Clint mumbled.

“Good boy.” Clint snorted. “I did that right, right?”

“You are… somewhat better,” Clint said. Fingertips to his jaw made him open his eyes and that sense of mine was back that did the job better than her words probably ever could.

“Don’t die, okay?” Natasha requested. “Because we have a long conversation ahead of us, and I don’t want you to be dead for it.”

“Might make conversing hard,” Clint admitted, feeling himself smile.

“That was not a funny joke,” Natasha said, though he could see a smile pulling up on her lips too. “I have to go now- I need to stall them. You remember what I said?”

“Ceiling vent, head west, see Brock, don’t die,” Clint repeated.

“That’s right,” Natasha said soothingly. “I’ll see you on the other side, Lyubov’ moja.”

Natasha was gone too quickly and Clint was stuck by himself again. He watched the ceiling for a moment before he closed his eyes. He tried to tell himself not to fall asleep, that it was a terrible idea even the thought of it was comforting. The feeling in the bond was something of a nervous energy, but sometimes something soothing would filter in, like she knew he was paying attention and needed the extra help.

A scraping of metal forced Clint to look up at a grate being opened overhead, something Clint determined was just big enough for him to crawl through. Clint nearly leapt out of the bed when a head popped down. “Hi Mr. Barton, sir. I’m here to get you out of here now.”

“Yeah, alright,” Clint grumbled, pushing himself up as the kid jumped down. “.... oh holy fuck, you’re Spiderman.”

The guy beamed. “Yep- friendly neighborhood Spiderman helping momma spider out.” Clint blinked at the saying. “Don’t tell her I said that. I want her to think I’m cooler than that.”

“Alright,” Clint said. “Help me push the-”

“Nah man, just come here,” he said. “I’m Peter, by the way.” Clint just stared before he inched over. “Alright, up you go.” Clint flailed his arms for a moment before he caught the inside of the vent and pulled himself up and back, letting Peter have enough room to enter the small tunneling system. “Alright, this way,” he said when he moved the grate back to where it was supposed to be, crawling.

Clint looked at his arms and his stomach and wanted to cry. He took a deep breath and mimicked what Peter was doing. Every motion hurt, it burned sometimes, but Clint kept pushing forward. The only time he stopped was when an alarm went off, rattling inside the vents loudly. Clint dropped down and covered his ears. He felt a tap and looked up at Peter before he removed his hearing aids and nodded, carrying on with the alarm mostly a dull, annoying white noise in his head.

Despite the vents rocking a few times and Peter stopping them, Clint could smell fresh air. He used it to propel him forward, keeping pace with Peter better until he saw Peter move and disappear. Clint turned his body awkwardly and slipped down, his heart leaping into his throat before Peter caught him and the pain threatened to make him sick. Clint took a moment, doubled over before Peter was urging him forward, waving an arm.

Clint stumbled along their path, forcing himself to move as quickly as he could. He focused more on the ground, on not tripping over his feet. He knew if he lost his momentum there was no way he was going to push himself back up to keep going. Occasionally he would make sure he was close to Peter, at least within sight. Peter seemed to be keeping pace, his hand brushing against Clint’s shoulder as a reminder.

Headlights turned on that stopped Clint dead in his tracks, his fingers brushing against Peter as he held his breath. Someone got out of the car and was running towards them, Peter only walking forward. The moment Clint saw Brock his legs buckled and he went for the ground and started to cry. Brock was to him in no time flat, grabbing his shoulders to bring his attention up before his hands held Clint’s face, talking to him even though Clint had no idea about what. Clint nodded numbly before Brock moved, helping Clint to his feet.

It was game over the moment Clint was in the back seat with Brock. A sense of safety pulsed through him and he felt the adrenaline wearing off. He slumped to the side, pressed up against his friend and overcome with exhaustion. Brock wrapped an arm around him and Clint closed his eyes. He reached out only once, it was all the energy he could come up with.  _ I’m safe _ he wanted to tell Natasha before he fell asleep.

Clint woke up, but instead of looking up at a sterile white ceiling he woke up seeing a blue sky, clouds passing by slowly. Clint was positive he was in the hospital- he felt like he was laying on a bed, he couldn’t feel the sun on his skin, but the ceiling had him confused. He smiled a little when he saw a cloud pass by. It looked like a weird dog followed something shaped like a cat. It had been a long time since Clint could just lay still and watch the cloud, come up with imaginative situations for them to be in.

He laid there and watched it for a minute, soaking in the peaceful feelings it gave him before he dared look around, disrupting his calm. He tore his eyes away and the first thing he saw was Natasha, curled up in a chair and sleeping peacefully. She had some bruises on her cheek, saw a bandage peeking through from under her shirt. Clint felt his eyes watering and he looked back up at the ceiling.

A hand touched his and Clint turned his head. Jack smiled at him and held out a pair of hearing aids. Clint slowly sat up despite Jack holding his hand out to ask him to stop and Clint put the hearing aids in. “I don’t want to wake her,” Clint said softly just above the beeping of the machines.

“If this is going to be a new constant with you, I think I may have to take out a life insurance policy,” Jack teased lightly. “How are we feeling?”

“Tired, worn. But better. How long was I-?” Clint asked.

“Little shy of two days,” Jack answered. “Dr. Cho thought it was more for exhaustion than anything too serious, although you had an impressive infection going.” Jack took Clint’s hand and squeezed it once. “Your temperature is back to normal, they fixed you up pretty good.”

“Pays to know Stark I guess,” Clint admitted with a sheepish smile. “Brock?”

“He had to work today,” Jack confirmed for Clint. “You scared the shit outta him. I wanted to be there but they wanted to limit the amount of people around in case things went poorly.”

“And… Barney?” Clint asked hesitantly.

“No one could find him,” Jack said grimly. “I tried calling you, tried to tell you that Barney had been broken out of prison, but you didn’t answer. Guess you were the first one he paid a visit to.” Clint nodded and looked at the wall in front of him. “He’ll lay low for awhile. I would say I’m worried but… I think as long as you’re here, you’re in good hands.”

“I can’t always be here though,” Clint said softly.

“Why not?” Clint glanced over at Jack. “She’s here.”

“I still need to work, do something with my life,” Clint muttered. “I can’t just live with her- I need to live for me too.”

“Came close to not this time,” Jack commented. “Just a warning- Brock and Natasha are friends now. You should probably be terrified.” Clint groaned and his body sagged, but hearing Jack laugh was worth the prospect of having two people breathing down his neck.

“Clint.” Clint snapped his head to the side and looked at Natasha, giving her a small smile. “How are you feeling?” she asked, uncurling from her spot and pulling the chair closer.

“Better,” Clint admitted. “Are you okay?”

“I’m going to go check in at the store,” Jack said and Clint could hear him getting up. “Call me, alright? And send a gif or whatever to Brock.”

“Okay,” Clint whispered. He watched Natasha’s eyes which followed Jack out of the room before she looked back at Clint. “I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes watering. “I’m so-”

“No, stop,” Natasha said, reaching out and putting her fingers over his. “Clint, deep breath.” Clint nodded before he closed his eyes. He heard the bed moving so he had something to lean back against. “We have a long discussion ahead of us, but today isn’t the day.” Clint nodded. “Does this count as one of those times we can… excessively cuddle?” Natasha asked.

Clint chuckled and moved over to the side the best he could to make room for her. Natasha climbed onto the bed and pulled at him. “What are you doing?” Clint asked, opening one eye to look at her.

“Forcing you to be the cuddler this time instead of the cuddle-ee,” Natasha said. “If you don’t start moving this bed is going down and I’m big spooning you.”

“What the f-” Clint began to ask. One pinch had him moving. “Okay,  _ okay _ . Stop. Shit, Nat.” Clint awkwardly tucked himself against her so that she could hold him, something he was pretty sure she needed more than he did. “You poke my stomach and I’m going to not cuddle with you for a month.”

“I removed soiled dressing that was causing an infection, I didn’t  _ poke  _ at you,” Natasha scolded.

“Whatever. You do it again, and this ain’t happening,” Clint mumbled.

“You scare me like that again and I’m locking you in a cell that only I have the key to,” Natasha threatened back. “I’ll tie you down and force cuddles.”

“It’s weird hearing you call them cuddles, I’m going to need you to stop,” Clint teased and Natasha ran a hand down his arm. “Pretty sure you are actually going to learn how the whole praise kink works and I am going to be a goner.”

Natasha sighed. “What do I call them aside from cuddles? There’s snuggle, but I am pretty sure- yep. Same reaction.”

“Stop using the bond against me, it’s rude.”

“You’re rude,” Natasha shot back playfully. 

It was nice, laying there with Natasha. The conversation dropped and Clint felt them both settling inwardly. No one was giving or taking more than the other, no one was under any stress- it was a sense of calm they hadn’t experienced yet within themselves and it was toxicating. Natasha’s hand didn’t stop rubbing Clint’s arm lightly, and Clint laid boneless against her.

“Clint?” Natasha asked.

“Hm?” When Natasha didn’t respond he angled his head so he could look at her.

“I just… wanted to let you know that you are worth more to me than I’ll likely ever be able to tell you.” 

Clint flinched at the words. “.... what?”

“I know you couldn’t feel me through the bond, or even hear me, but I heard and felt all of it,” Natasha said. Clint’s chest tightened and he looked down. “I felt all the fear, all the pain. And I- felt the pain when you said you weren’t worth that much to me. And that’s not… I need you to know that that’s not true.” That feeling came back, that same feeling that welled up on his birthday and he tried to smother the pain before it could build. “It’s okay.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Clint urged, sitting up, Natasha following suit.

“No, we do, and now is about… as good a time as we can get,” Natasha said. “His name was Alexei. We married when I was young, I was sixteen at the time.” Natasha reached out and held Clint’s hand. “Growing up I was taught that love was for children, and it didn’t- it didn’t fit with the lifestyle. When they found out I had a soulbond they tried to smother it as best they could with him. At least with him they knew they could keep some control over me because they had some control over him.”

“The Red Room?” Clint guessed and Natasha nodded. “And then he died-”

“I told myself that if I ever met you I would do whatever I could to keep you away,” Natasha said. “I loved Alexei, even though I knew I shouldn’t and couldn’t, I still loved him, and I was there to hold him as he died. I told myself I wouldn’t let that happen to whoever you were.”

“This better not be the strong discussion,” Clint said carefully. “The led up to-”

“I couldn’t keep you away,” Natasha said. “From the moment I saw you fighting back to stay alive, before the bond was fully sealed, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to put that distance up without some pain in return.” Natasha smiled weakly. “This isn’t the serious discussion. But this is… a precursor I suppose. A way of saying that I want this to work for us, between us. But we need to figure out a way to do that safer than we did because that fear you felt? It was the worst thing I have ever experienced from you. It topped the hearing loss, it topped your brother trying to kill you when you were a teen. Those things hurt, but they didn’t hurt as bad as knowing you were somewhere in pain and terrified and that first day I didn’t know how to find you, and that I couldn’t reach you to calm you down through the bond.”

Clint swallowed and nodded, watching Natasha as her grip tightened on his hand. She looked up. “If you are comfortable with it… I’d like to kiss you now,” Natasha said, and Clint felt a sense of impending rejection on the bond.

“I dunno- have we talked enough?” Clint teased. “Am I hurt enough and need enough cuddling to warrant a full blown kiss? I think maybe-”

Natasha put her hand on his chest and pushed him back, Clint willingly complying with her wordless wish until his back was flat against the bed and she was straddling his hips. She looked at him with a hesitant smile. Clint reached up and pushed her hair back before she leaned down and kissed him.

“Nat?” Clint mumbled against her lips.

“What?” she asked.

“You think mine much harder and, uh- we are going to have a problem,” Clint commented.

Natasha sat back a little ways and smirked. “You’ll have a problem. I’m perfectly fine.”

Clint pouted before he laughed, wrapping his arm around and her, pulling her back to him, back to the kiss, back to everything that seemed to matter at that moment.

There was a small thrill through the bond that let Clint know Natasha had just landed and he rushed around, dimming the lights to his apartment and waited excitedly for the elevator to open. Clint pushed back against it, taunted her a little, which Natasha shoved away.  _ Stop it _ she said with a light, tired laugh behind it. Clint did it again and this time her laugh was richer, more lively.  _ You’re an idiot. _

It was nearly seven months since Clint met Natasha, just a little shy of four months since the Barney incident, and life had become a whirlwind of energy. Once Clint was cleared from medical he did have that sit down, serious conversation with Natasha, Brock and Jack showing up for part of it. For everyone’s sake, Clint had moved to the Tower and into his own apartment there. Clint had never actually lived alone, he always had a roommate or two to help carry the load. Moving to the Tower came with some perks, naturally. He didn’t have to go grocery shopping- everything was based on delivery in the Tower. The first time he laid eyes on his new bed Clint was pretty sure he was never going to get out of it. And the bathroom- Clint didn’t think he ever needed a large bathroom until he saw the kind of shower Stark had put in it. Screw the bed, the shower was secretly Clint’s favorite spot.

Jack’s business had picked up due to the Avengers promoting it, so he needed a bigger place, which he bought nearby. More business meant more employees, which meant Clint got to work with Jack more than once a week while also dropping down to part time and as an on-call staffer. Jack got some of those benefits too, finally allowing himself to work a little less. It helped that Kate knew how to run the ship, so between the three of them, someone was almost always available.

Once a week Clint still taught his archery lessons, letting the kids drool over his custom made bow. Clint cut back on his volunteering to one day a week at the homeless shelter and the animal shelter. And he still made it across town to visit Ms Luther, helping her with whatever it was she needed. He never really did any of it alone. Sometimes it would be Sam, or Steve. Once it was Tony, which turned into a disaster. Most of the time it was Brock or Jack though, which seemed to make everything a little easier since the three of them were able to blend in better.

During the last several months, Natasha and Clint worked on their relationship, figuring out what exactly that meant for them. They agreed on separate floors for the time being, trying to work on their bond slowly, try to understand each other better without having to rely on that. Their time together was soft most of the time, spending hours on the couch, tucked into each other as they watched a movie or TV. Sometimes Clint would be brave enough to teach her how to cook something more complicated than a grilled cheese sandwich. Other times they were on the go again, screwing around in one the pools in the Tower, or having a nerf gun fight throughout the Tower, which naturally dissolved into chaos. They traded off lessons, Natasha teaching Clint his way around a gun and a knife and Clint helping Natasha with archery.

Their relationship was still being kept as quiet as the team could manage. Most of the time Clint was grateful for it- he had sneak peeks of the news conferences they did, or the charity events they hosted and it appeared to be overwhelming. Other times Clint hated having to hide he was with someone, feeling like he was a bit of an outcast in some way. Those times came with Natasha gently poking Clint through the bond and then planning something obnoxious at night, like the previously mentioned Nerf gun fight.

However, there wasn’t a second of it Clint would trade away for anything. Natasha’s walls were breaking down slowly, and in a way his were too. They both could discuss some painful things now to the other without either of them overreacting, their bond settled down to something much more comfortable. He lived for the moments she would crack one of her smiles, or when she would roll her eyes and call him an idiot with that fondness he craved. 

The relationship wasn’t anything like Clint had ever dreamed about- it wasn’t all romance and tenderness, not wanting to get out of bed and just lay there in each other’s arms. There were moments where loving each other was hard, moments where the trust wavered, but the foundation underneath was strong enough where they could build each other back up from their worst days. It was something Clint found worth fighting for, and it made Clint even happier to know that Natasha felt the same way.

The elevator opened and Natasha walked out, pausing to look around before her eyes landed on Clint. “What is all this?” she asked.

“You’ve been gone for three weeks,” Clint answered. “Missed Christmas so I left the tree up. And I made us dinner.” Natasha let her bag fall as she made her way to Clint. Clint wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her hair at the same time she buried her face into his chest. “Permission to tell you I missed you?”

“Permission granted,” Natasha said with a laugh. “I…. missed you too.”

“I know,” Clint answered. “Come on- come to the kitchen and make a plate. I made a lot of food so tomorrow neither of us have to cook. “How was your mission?”

“You tell me,” Natasha teased, following him.

“You know I don’t check in on the bond when I know you are on a mission,” Clint pointed out. “What if I accidentally feel something, it freaks me out, and you mess up and get hurt? I’d feel like the world’s biggest dick.”

“So I shouldn’t bring up that I checked in when you burned your hand to make sure everything was okay?” Natasha asked innocently. Clint felt his ears turning warm, right along with his face. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Clint admitted, making sure he had everything out. “So, I made-” he began to say before he looked at Natasha. “Tasha?”

Natasha looked at all the food. “You made… some traditional Russian food. Olivier salad. Canapes. Why?”

“Well, for starters…. Russian,” Clint said, pointing at her. Natasha pulled a face and opened her mouth. “Nope, I am holding the metaphorical talking stick right now.” Natasha sighed and crossed her arms. “Look, I know your childhood was crap, and mine wasn’t exactly great either. Not as bad as taken and turned into an assassin bad but… you know. Semantics.” Natasha forced a laugh and Clint reached out, digging his hand under her arms and touching her hand until she gave away. “I want to start a new tradition and I want to start it with you. This is just year one, Natasha. If we don’t like it, we change it. We form and shape it into something we are comfortable with. So if you don’t want me to make Russian food, I won’t make it next year… except maybe the dessert.”

“Which dessert did you make?” Natasha asked.

“Medovik?” Clint said, unsure. “Uh- honey cake? Is that it?”

“I haven’t had it in years,” Natasha admitted. “You made all this for me?”

“Well, us. I’m kinda hungry too,” Clint said, pulling her closer to him gently. “I figured that with champagne, although we can slip in  _ some  _ vodka. We can watch all the crappy bands play on the television. Dance like no one is watching if we want to. Write those wishes on paper and burn them. And when the ball drops-” Clint shrugged and smiled awkwardly. 

Natasha squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I see perogies,” she commented.

“Oh, I bet you do,” Clint replied, his smile getting more confident. “Nat?” Natasha tilted her head. “If you don’t want to spend the night with me and would like to be by yourself, that’s okay too.”

Natasha shook her head before she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I want to spend all night with you, sweetums.” Clint felt his shoulders pull up at the term and Natasha started to smile, leaning against him. “No? Snookums Pookie?”

“What… are you doing?” Clint asked with a laugh, confused.

“Trying to think of a pet name for you,” Natasha said and Clint groaned. “You do it to me all the time. If it helps, I’m not a fan of pookie.”

“Thank fuck,” Clint mumbled.

“Schnoodle-doodle, hot stuff, cuddle bear,” Natasha rattled off.

Clint couldn’t help but to laugh. “Oh my God, stop. You are terrible at this.”

Natasha pouted and wrapped her arms around his neck. “My sweet pea.”

“Banned,” Clint told her, giving her a quick peck on the lips.

“Okay boo.” Clint felt his face heat up again and her laugh was too infectious not to join in on. He pushed her away after a minute and grabbed a plate.

They ate their food, Natasha snatching bites from Clint’s plate from the things she hadn’t put on hers. Clint figured that meant he was free to take food from her plate- he was very much wrong. Natasha acted like she was going to stab his hand, making him flinch back before he glared at her. From there it became a test on who could steal the most food from the other; Clint didn’t bother to try winning, enjoying the look of smug delight on her face every time she managed to swipe some of his food. He almost liked it as much as her face when he managed to steal some from her.

The music wasn’t the best when they did turn the television on for the countdown to New Year shows. Natasha stood up and held her hand out and Clint looked confused before he stood.

“Pick something that we can stupid dance to,” Natasha instructed him.

“Something we can stupid dance to?” he asked. “Hmmmm. JARVIS- can you play that cha-cha slide song?” Clint requested.

“ _ Certainly, Mr. Barton _ ,” JARVIS said before the music started playing. 

Natasha and Clint ran to shove the couch out of the way, scrambling to get into a good spot by the time the instructions started. They slipped and slid around the apartment, laughing as they watched each other’s antics. Natasha asked for the song again when they got done with it the first time, this time doing everything much more dramatically. Clint threw his head back and laughed before he followed her example.

From there it went to other songs they were familiar with, to music videos, to videos on how to do certain dances. Clint spun around the room more times than he could count, pulling Natasha every which way, stumbling over his feet until finally between the two of them they found a rhythm.

Clint was the first one to bow out, flopping back on the couch laughing, pulling her towards him. Natasha collapsed down and leaned against Clint as she tried to catch her breath. Clint wrapped an arm around her and closed his eyes, taking a moment to appreciate the ease that was between them at the moment.

“Nat?” Clint asked and watched as she tilted her head up. “Go change. You smell like mission.”

“I showered. Twice,” Natasha said, pressed against and trying to tuck her way closer. “Gonna sleep here.”

“Change.” Clint poked and prodded at her. “Don’t make me whine. We both know how much you pretend to hate that.” Natasha turned, throwing a leg over him and pinning him against the couch. “Don’t. Even.”

“Don’t even what?” Natasha asked teasingly, leaning in. Clint lifted his hips, trying to keep her at bay. “I’m  _ comfortable _ .”

“Go be comfortable in clothes that aren’t skin tight and have knives poking into my thigh,” Clint muttered, settling back down.

“You  _ sure  _ that’s a knife?” Natasha asked.

“Wow,” Clint said, dragging it out as she laughed. “Come on. We agreed. No knives and guns on the couch. It’s bad enough if you spend the night I have to sleep with a gun  _ and _ knife under your side.”

“The gun is supposed to stay,” Natasha said slowly.

Clint forgot that he wasn’t supposed to let that part slip. “We… both know I have a listening problem?”

Natasha groaned and pressed her forehead against his, taking a deep, cleansing breath and Clint hummed against the feeling that ran through their bond. “That was a terrible deaf joke.”

“Can’t hear you.” Clint opened his eyes to watch her eyes scan his face. “Uh oh. Murder face.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Natasha grumbled, sinking against him. Clint made a whine in protest. “Okay.  _ Okay _ . I’ll ditch the knives. You’re demanding.”

“I don’t like getting stabby stabbed,” Clint said, his hand holding one of hers as she got up to leave, letting his arm be pulled along as long as he could stand it.

The moment Natasha was out of the room, Clint got up and refreshed their glasses of water and champagne, pulled out a tray of crackers and cheese, and set everything up on the coffee table. After that, he grabbed a small box out from his end table and sat down.

Natasha walked out and Clint’s stomach flipped. His sweatpants were too long, threatening to trip her with every step. She was wearing his favorite purple sweatshirt, the sleeve bulking down as she tried to hold the pants legs up. She rested her back against the arm of the couch and tucked her feet under Clint’s thighs.

“Is this better, Lyubov’ moja?” Natasha asked, showing absolutely no mercy, sending a pulse through the bond that nearly made Clint squirm. She looked satisfied with the reaction he did have.

“You’re ruthless,” Clint said before he held out a box. “Happy holidays, Natasha.”

“We agreed,” Natasha protested, groaning.

“Don’t make me tell the same deaf joke again,” Clint threatened with a laugh. “It’s just something small.” Natasha nodded and opened the box, her eyes lighting up. “Told you. It’s just… something you can keep with you if you want. You know, while you travel? Just something to remember me by.”

Natasha dangled the arrow necklace in the air. “You act like I could forget you,” Natasha commented before he unclasped it to put it on. “It’s beautiful, Clint.” She leaned forward and made Clint do most of them moving for a kiss before she settled back, grabbing her bag. “I got you something too.”

“Cheater.”

“Says the one who started the whole thing,” Natasha laughed before she held an envelope out. “It’s not much of anything, really. But I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Clint took it and opened it slowly. There, written in a perfect slant, the words neat, was Natasha’s handwriting.  _ My love _ . Clint stared at the note before he looked up at Natasha, and he gave a hopeful smile. “Is this-?”

“I hope it clears things up for you,” Natasha said quietly.

Clint groaned and flopped his body back against the sofa. “You’re  _ trying _ to kill me,” he whined, Natasha laughing in the background. “Can… will you come here? Please?”

“Of course, Lyubov’ moja,” Natasha said. She curled herself from her side of the couch and scooted in, resting against Clint as he wrapped an arm around her, his other hand coming down on her thigh.

Natasha didn’t make it for the ball to drop. Clint knew she had fallen asleep about twenty minutes before and he waited on the couch just a little bit longing, holding out just a little bit longer to let her sleep. He turned the television off and gently shifted her, trying to make it so she didn’t wake up while he tried to carry her off to his bedroom. He failed miserably at keeping her asleep as he made it to his feet, holding her up.

“What-?” Natasha murmured.

“Sh, go back to bed, sweetheart,” Clint whispered, walking.

“The ball-”

“It dropped, it’s one in the morning,” Clint answered for her as he trudged along. “You’re tired. You did a good job holding out as long as you did.” Natasha murmured something against his neck tiredly. “Whatever you say, Nat.” She turned her head and kissed his jaw, his neck before she rested her head against him. “That’s right- I’ve got you.”


End file.
